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The Gold Watch (chapter 2)

by 322sivart


For anyone who has been waiting for my next installment, here it is. I think that you will find this a much easier read than the first chapter.

-Alex

(1)

“So how did you find me here?” Mr. Daniels took a sip of his coffee, determined that it was too hot to drink, and then set it back down on the table.

"Don't ask." Mr Peters took the last gulp of his coffee and set it down on the table.

Mr. Daniels stared at his beverage and decided he didn’t want it. He pushed it away from himself. “Do you want it?”

“Sure.” Mr. Peters pulled up the left sleeve of his jacket to look at the time on his wristwatch. This was the ninth time he had done this in about eleven minutes.

“How do you drink that shit? I’ve been living up here for three years and I still hate it.”

Mr. Peters shrugged indifferently, checked his watch, and began to drink Mr. Daniels' coffee.

Rocky Café was by far the most popular inconveniently placed coffee shop in all of rural Canada. It was nestled neatly in a mountainside where it seemed a large piece of rock in the mountain had disappeared. There was no parking lot, because it was impossible for a car to get there, so they were usually parked on a particular worn-down foothill. From there they would walk a path up to their destination and buy questionable watery beverages. Every once in a while, someone would discover that they forgot to bring money, and would indignantly make their way back down, cursing on the way.

It was five thirty in the morning on this particular day at Rocky Café, and winds were piling snow all through northern British Columbia at about an inch per hour. The only customers at the time were two quiet men sitting at a booth far from the entrance, and while observing these men the waiters at the café observed that one of the men drank both his coffee and the coffee of the man sitting across from him.

If someone were to describe Mr. Daniels after meeting him for the first time, they would say that he was a pleasant old man with a sincere laugh and enough stories to keep you listening to him forever. He had a full head of white hair and light blue eyes that always made you feel exactly like he wanted you to feel. He had a long, shaft-like nose that only got bigger as the years went by. The people that lived in this rural community loved this amiable old man from New York the minute he arrived, and no one ever suspected that he was one of the most notorious criminals of his time.

Mr. Daniels never told anyone his age.

Mr. Peters was a quiet man who was in his early fifties. He was also very lucky. People had warned him not to “smoke away his life” for the past forty years, but his daily pack of cigarettes did not cause the slightest hint of a cancer or any other health issue. For many years he served as Mr. Daniels’ protégé, and since his mentor had retired he was in complete control of one of the most infamous gangs in the New York area. A smile from him was rare.

Mr. Peters drank the last of the coffee and set it down next to the first one. He paused a moment before looking up at his mentor and said, “So how’s life up here treating you?”

A faint but warm smile appeared on the old man's face. "I really like it."

“Where do you live?”

“I found a mansion in the middle of the woods. It comes with forty acres of land.”

“Wow. I wish I could come up here to retire. You found a woman here yet?”

“No. As much as I love it here, I go down to Vermont as much as I can to see my grandchildren, and my ex-wife and I have been getting along. You should meet my oldest grandson. He’s fourteen now. Where does the time-“

“Mr. Daniels? I came up here to talk to you about something serious.”

It only took a peripheral glance at the old man to see that he was offended. Mr. Peters sighed, took his coat off, and put it on the seat next to him.

“I’m planning a big job in a couple months, and I need you back.”

If he had remained silent for another moment, one would have seen the slightest tear shed from Mr. Daniels’s right eye. He slouched back, waved his hand at Mr. Peters to tell him to explain, and said, “Fuck you.”

Mr. Peters continued, “In maybe July, I want to get maybe thirteen or fourteen men together to execute a robbery of a casino in Atlantic City. This would be huge, and I would need all the assistance I can get.”

“Who are your main men to get this done? I hope Mr. Stephens is involved.”

“Of course Mr. Stephens is involved. Mr. Stephens, Mr. Walters, and these three brothers are basically doing this on their own, and they’re recruiting more men.”

“Who’re the three brothers?”

“I don’t know their names, and we haven’t given them fake names yet. But since Mr. Stephens is friends with them, he knows all their real names.”

“That’s not good. I’m assuming you’ve met them before; what are they like?”

“Well, the oldest one is everyone’s favorite. He’s well-mannered, clear-headed, charming, and smart enough to make his way. I hate the other two.”

“Why?”

“They’re total pricks. They’re young, stupid, arrogant, and rash. The youngest one isn’t even that bad, actually. He’s outspoken and one of the best assassins I’ve ever met. But it’s the middle brother that I really hate. You’ll meet him.”

Mr. Peters took from his pocket a plane ticket, and set it on the table in front of Mr. Daniels. He looked at his watch.

“Now that you mention it, the three brothers are in the middle of robbing some rubies with Mr. Stephens in Northern Westchester.”

He lounged back, seeming satisfied with this proclamation.

Mr. Daniels looked somber and disgusted.

“Mr. Daniels? I know this seems wrong, but you and I have known each other for years and years. We’ve been through the

worst of what life throws at us, for eleven long years. I want to know something.”

“You’re a fag.”

“Can you tell me what your real name is?” Mr. Peters leaned in across the table.

“No.” Mr. Daniels looked up to say this, and then looked back down.

“Oh, come on. You and I know each other better than our own dicks. Listen, I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“No.”

“Listen, Mr. Daniels. I only want the best for you. Just tell me.” His expression became threatening.”

“No.”

At this, Mr. Peters stood up, took his jacket off of the seat, and put it on. He did his best to make his expression appear sincere and apologetic.

“Mr. Daniels, you are my father and I love you. But mark my words, I hope that one day, your favorite grandson finds out that his granddaddy had a fake name his entire life to hide from the cops.” He looked back at Mr. Daniels one more time, and began walking towards the door.

Mr. Daniels was not a stupid man. He did not tell Mr. Peters his name because he felt threatened by this, because he felt bad about this, or even because he felt like a dishonest man. He told Mr. Peters his name because there was nothing he could do or say that would change the fact that he was the son that Mr. Daniels never had, and time was catching up with him faster than he ever thought.

Mr. Peters was only a few steps from their table when Mr. Daniels called, “Hey! Get back here!”

The middle-aged man slowly stopped, turned around, and started back towards his old friend. He seemed much older now than before; his blue eyes seemed to have lost their effect, his hair seemed thinner, and the pronounced wrinkles on his face made it obvious that he had seen better days.

“Sylvester Marco Cruz. That was my name.”

The look of satisfaction painted across Mr. Peters’ face was almost mocking. He checked his watch one more time and

placed his hand on the plane ticket. “The plane to New York leaves Tuesday. I expect you to be at home by Friday. We can’t postpone this.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Don’t miss that flight.” Mr. Peters started towards the exit.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuck off!” He pushed the door ahead of him and let it close behind.

Within the next hour, customers walking into the Rocky Café probably noticed a familiar-looking old man sitting far away with his face buried in his hands.

(2)

Jackie Miller took a long look at his watch.

The stiff, cheap suit left him rigid and distracted. Sweat bulged from his forehead and occasionally dripped off of his chin onto the floor.

Frankie Miller held his gun to the head of Lewis Marcella. Lewis’ face was pressed against the clean, wooden floor of his bedroom.

The safe was hidden behind Lewis’ dresser, about two feet above the ground. The small, metal door was a square with sides maybe ten or eleven inches long. After taking maybe half a minute to examine the safe, Jackie turned to his brother behind him, with his knee on Lewis’ back, pressing his face against the floor.

“Mr. Fosters? I think we need to get the combination from our friend.”

Lewis lay with his eyes open, looking unaffected.

Jackie took a few steps towards the two men, and kneeled down. He leaned forward so that his face and Lewis’ face were almost touching.

“Lewis, you and I are excellent friends. This is because you and my boss are excellent friends. However, you did something to him for reasons I do not understand. You stole thousands of dollars from him when he let his guard down. That is why we are here today, to rob you of your millions of dollars worth of rubies. Unfortunately, when we broke into your home, your daughter escaped the house, drove off, and probably notified the police. Because of that, we need the combination to this safe as soon as possible. Would you be able to do that for us?”

Lewis let no emotion out from his cold eyes. “Yes.”

Jackie turned away and walked over to the safe.

Frankie pressed the gun harder on Lewis’ face. “What’s the first number?”

“Eleven.”

Jackie repeated the number to himself quietly, and carefully turned the dial to eleven.

Frankie smiled, and then remembered to ask, “What’s the second number?”

“Fifty-two.”

The dial was turned to the number fifty-two.

Frankie did not have to put too much effort into getting the numbers out of Lewis. Because of this fear that Lewis had seemed to have of Mr. Peters, Frankie was assured that he was giving them the correct numbers. The third and fourth numbers were thirty-four and eight; Frankie got those numbers out of him the same way. He did not have to ask for the fifth and last number.

“Fourteen.”

Jackie slowly turned the dial to the number fourteen. He froze for a second, and then pressed the button on the lower, right-hand corner of the door.

The door did not unlock.

Jackie asked for the numbers again, patiently. Lewis told him all five numbers, and again, the door was not unlocked.

That stupid bitch fucked it up.

Jackie stood up, and yelled as loudly as possible, “STEPHENS! ROGERS!”

His yell rang through the mansion, and within fifteen seconds two men had ran up the stairs and were in the bedroom. The first to arrive was a man aged maybe thirty, who was strikingly tall, and whose sideburns connected, making a chinstrap. His hair and eyes were dark, and his expression was curious. His nose was small and triangular, and he had a dimple on one side of his mouth when he smiled. He had taken off the jacket of the suit, and you could tell that he was insanely muscular because of how tight his collared shirt was on him.

The man that followed him was very young and shaggy-looking, with his sideburns growing to the ends of his jaw. His expression was ambitious, fearless, and hungry. He wore a black suit that conformed with those that the other three robbers were wearing, and held a machine gun identical to the one that the man in front of him was holding. His name was Ronnie Miller.

Jackie looked up at the two men, looked around the room, and then at his watch. “Lewis’ daughter fucked up the combination.”

The first man to enter asked, “How do you know this little shit isn’t lying to us?” He gestured to Lewis with his machine gun.

Ronnie spoke. “He’s too afraid of us to lie.”

Jackie walked over to the corner of the room where Lewis Marcella’s telephone was, and picked it up. “Lewis”, he said, “I need your daughter’s cell phone number.”

Lewis told him the number.

Jackie held the phone up to his face, making sure that his face was not touching it. “Marci, is that you? Hello, you can call me Mr. Jenkins. There seems to be a misunderstanding. Before you left your house earlier today, you seemed to have changed the combination to the safe in your father’s bedroom. You’re very smart girl.”

There was a pause. Then, Jackie’s voice resumed, sardonic as ever.

“Yes, I’m sure that the police are on their way. I just need you to do something for me. I need you to tell me what numbers you changed the combination to.”

There was another pause.

“Marci, I don’t think you understand. You do not have to give me the combination, but if you do not in ten seconds, your father will have a very unfortunate gunshot wound in his head.”

At this pause, the muscular man walked over to the safe and kneeled down. Lewis did not notice Ronnie take out a water bottle, crack open the seal, drop a tablet inside, and then close the bottle.

Jackie loudly repeated the numbers that were recited to him, and within a minute the door to the safe was opened. Jackie hung up the phone.

Lewis shed a small tear that flowed down his left cheek and stopped at the floor. None of the robbers noticed.

The muscular man (whose fellow robbers were calling him Mr. Stephens at the moment) stuck his hand inside the safe, and pulled out a small silk pouch tied at the top with string. Jackie and Ronnie slowly walked towards him. Frankie did not move.

Mr. Stephens slowly untied the knot and opened the pouch. After looking inside and smiling, he poured the contents of the pouch into his cupped right palm. Twelve, maybe fifteen rubies in less than one centimeter in diameter were now in the possession of Mr. Peters.

After a moment or two (maybe a minute or two) of awe, Mr. Stephens poured the contents back into the pouch, and placed the pouch in the right pocket of his pants.

Jackie, Ronnie, and Mr. Stephens walked over and kneeled down near Lewis, and Ronnie opened a water bottle. Frankie lifted the gun off of his head, so Ronnie could lift it up and give him the water to drink.

“Mr. Marcella, you really do look sick. I know this may all be a real shock to you. Please, have some water. It would really make me feel better about all this.

Ronnie tried pouring the water into Lewis’ mouth, but he fought. He spat out whatever he could until Frankie and Mr. Stephens held his head in place. He began to drink the water. He was helpless now, anyway.

After Lewis drank most of the water, the four robbers stood up and began to walk out of the bedroom. They all left except for Frankie, who put the dresser back in its place and ‘fixed’ anything else that would have been evidence of the crime. Before he left, he paused at the doorway of the bedroom. He looked at Lewis, breathing helplessly on the floor, and then at his room, which by no means suggested that a robbery had taken place here. Frankie’s expression turned remorseful, and he tried his best to sound sincere when he said, “Thank you for your time.” And then he left.

The robbers left the same way that they had entered: through the front door. Once they left the mansion, they ran as fast as they could until they had left the neighborhood, and then walked to their car. They had parked about a third of a mile from their destination.

Lewis Marcella lied on the floor for a few minutes after he heard the robbers leave, and then sat down on the edge of his bed until his daughter arrived with the police.

He could not remember what happened just before. Had it not been for his daughter, he would not have recalled that he had just been robbed. When the police asked what these men looked like or what they called each other, he could not remember. Lewis’ daughter pointed out to the police that she was called from the house phone, but when tests were conducted on the telephone for fingerprints, none were found but Lewis’.

The robbers had worn gloves.

And for a very long time, no one spoke of this again.

Hope you like this! Enjoy and criticize!


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Wed Feb 16, 2011 5:13 pm
Sins wrote a review...



Here at last! ^^

I'm a little pressed for time right now, so I greatly apologise if this review's short. What I'll probably do is instead of rambling, I'll try and get straight to the point. We'll see how it goes!

Okay, as a whole, this is good. It has cleared up one or two things from the last part, so that's good. I obviously still have a load of questions, but that's okay, I guess. I think that this could really unravel into a wonderful story, so I'm definitely interested in seeing what will happen later on in this. You also have a good pace going here, I think. You could maybe make the robbery part longer, or maybe show the scene where the daughter comes home or something. To be honest though, I'm probably just saying that because I like quite slow paced stories.

One thing I noticed in this piece actually has something to do with your sentence structure. I didn't actually see you doing this in the first chapter. I didn't notice it, anyway, but you don't seem to be varying your sentence structure that much. What you seem to be doing is having an awful lot of these kind of sentences:

Mr. Daniels took a sip of his coffee, decided that it was too hot to drink, and then set it back down on the table.


Mr. Peters rudely shrugged, checked his watch, and began to drink.


He slouched back, waved his hand at Mr. Peters to tell him to explain, and said,


I'm not sure how to explain them... You seem to be listing actions in threes, I guess... He did this, then that, and then this. That kind of thing. Do you see what I mean? I don't think I'm being perfectly clear... Hopefully, the example above directs you at which kind of sentence structure I'm talking about. Basically, I noticed that a lot of your sentences were written in this kind of pattern. The problem with that is that it gets a bit repetitive and boring.

Staying on the theme of sentence structure, another thing I noticed was that your punctuation was sometimes a bit off. It was only a minor problem though; most of the time, your punctuation was fine. Your main issue was that sometimes, you got a bit wordy in your sentences. The majority of the time though, this can be fixed with adding in some commas or periods. Here's an example of a sentence that could do with some punctuation revision:

The only customers at the time were two quiet men sitting at a booth far from the entrance#FF0000 ">. While observing these men#FF0000 ">, the workers at the café #FF0000 ">noticed that one of the men drank his coffee #FF0000 ">as well as the coffee of the man sitting across from him.


Another thing I noticed actually was that you sometimes had a tendency to repeat words in the same sentences. In the sentence above, you used the word observed twice. I changed it to noticed, but you can change it to whatever really. Because of the original punctuation in this sentence, I wasn't 100% clear on what was being said exactly. I had to read over it twice to really grasp what you were saying.

I've kind of gone against what I said earlier... I'm blabbering. Sorry. I do have one last thing to mention though! The only real issue I'm having with this right now is that this story so far don't have completely believable situations in them in some places. Now obviously, this is fiction, so you have the complete rights to make as much up as you can. What you need to be careful about though is that no matter how extreme the situation is, you need to keep it believable at the same time. Even in entirely fantasy filled books, the good ones do always have that element of Wow, do you know what? I can really see that happening. They're written in such a skilled way that people do actually believe it could happen in real life, even if in reality, no way could it happen. It's a clever thing.

Now, as for your story, to be honest, this isn't a huge problem. This is more of a warning really. Right now, I can see some elements of this that are believable right now, but they could easily edge on becoming too unrealistic. For example, the general idea of secret criminals around the place is good, but it could end up not being believable enough. As of now though, I think you're okay. Just be careful for the future. ;)

Keep writing,

xoxo Skins




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Wed Feb 16, 2011 2:33 am
MoonlightAssassin wrote a review...



Hey, Alex!

I've been meaning to check this out... I swear I have. Now, I could go on and on with excuses about getting behind on my writing schedule and having to type the day away, but I'll spare you and just get to the review... And there's not a lot that I can add on, to be honest.

The first thing I noticed was your use of names. It's very repetitive. It would be nice if instead of "Mr. Daniels" and "Mr. Peters" being repeated every other sentence you could space it out a bit. Perhaps even say something like, "The former of the two men..." in your third paragraph. Maybe you could tell us some height difference so you could use that instead.

“Sure.”Mr. Peters pulled down the left sleeve of his jacket to look at the time on his wristwatch; the ninth time in about eleven minutes.

The problems with this have been pointed out in the first and second review, so I won't repeat it... I have something to add on to after the semi-colon, though. Maybe, "this was the ninth time in about eleven minutes he had completed this task," would help the flow more, along with spicing it up a bit.

Legend has it that one man who found it too inconvenient to walk back down committed suicide by jumping off a nearby cliff.

I agree with the first reviewer... I'm sorry, but I can't help feeling that this is unbelievable... I would get rid of it unless it has some impact on the story.

I noticed that you misspelled "Columbia" as "Colombia" a few times... Look out for that.

Everyone he met here in British Colombia always had the hunch that he looked younger than he really was, but they could never be sure.

Mr. Daniels never told anyone his age.

This feels detached. You should probably rework this area a bit.

“I’m planning a big in a couple months, and I need you back.”

This confused me until I read more. Shouldn't he say what kind of big thing he's planning? I suppose maybe not, since they're in a semi-public place, but still.

If he had remained silent for another moment, one would have seen the slightest tear shed from Mr. Daniels’s right eye. He slouched back, waved his hand at Mr. Peters to tell him to explain, and said, “Fuck you.”

None of this makes sense when it's all jumbled together... He's crying; telling him, quite calmly, to explain; and saying, "Fuck you," all in one paragraph? It seems odd to me.

His expression became threatening.

The quotation mark is misplaced.

Now for the second part of this...

First of all, I absolutely love how you introduced the three brothers. It adds so much on to the prologue/last chapter.

You’re very smart girl.

This needs to be a bit reworked. Change it to, "You're a very smart girl," or "You're very smart, girl." Something like that. In its current form, it doesn't work.

Okay... My only little nitpick with the ending of it is on the drugs... Is there a drug that can be dissolved in water and make the drinker lose their memory? Could the police not run a drug test? Also, the last sentence seems a bit odd. I figure that it'll be explained with the next chapter, though.

Anywho, overall, I really enjoyed this first chapter. Keep me posted for more!

Hope I helped and keep up the great work!
~ Moonlight




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Tue Feb 15, 2011 3:01 am
Kafkaescence wrote a review...



322sivart wrote:“So how did you find me here?” Mr. Daniels took a sip of his coffee, decided that it was too hot to drink, and then set it back down on the table.

Mr. Peters took the last scalding gulp of his coffee, took a breath, and said, “Don’t ask.” #FF0000 ">Rework this.

Mr. Daniels took a prolonged stare at his beverage and decided #FF0000 ">Just used "decided." he didn’t want it. He pushed it away #FF0000 ">from himself. “Do you want it?”

“Sure.”#FF0000 "> Mr. Peters pulled down the left sleeve of his jacket to look at the time on his wristwatch#FF0000 ">. #FF0000 ">This was the ninth time #FF0000 ">he had done this in about eleven minutes.

“How do you drink that shit? I’ve been living up here for three years and I still hate it.”

Mr. Peters rudely shrugged #FF0000 ">How do you rudely shrug? I have no idea how to picture this. , checked his watch, and began to drink. #FF0000 ">I thought he didn't want the coffee. And he was already drinking, so "began" isn't really the right word.

Rocky Café was by far the most popular inconveniently placed coffee shop in all of rural Canada. It was nestled neatly in a mountainside where it seemed God had grabbed a large piece of rock and threw it away somewhere #FF0000 ">Clarify this image a bit. I had to read it a couple times to understand what it meant.. There was no parking #FF0000 ">lot, because it was impossible for a car to get there, so they were usually parked on a particular worn-down foothill. From there they would walk a beaten path up to their destination and buy questionable #FF0000 ">Using a lot of adjectives.... watery beverages. Every once in a while, someone would discover that they forgot to bring money, and #FF0000 ">[would curse their way back down#FF0000 ">] Rework this. . Legend #FF0000 ">The shop has its own legends? has it that one man who found it too inconvenient to walk back down committed suicide by jumping off a nearby cliff.

It was five thirty in the morning on this particular day at Rocky Café, and winds were blowing snow through northern British Colombia at about an inch per hour #FF0000 ">I wouldn't think these kinds of winds would be able to blow snow. . The only customers at the time were two quiet men sitting at a booth far from the entrance, and while observing these men the workers #FF0000 ">I wouldn't call them "workers." How about "waiters?" at the café observed that one of the men drank #FF0000 ">both his coffee and the coffee of the man sitting across from him.

If someone were to describe Mr. Daniels after meeting him for the first time, they would say that he was a pleasant old man with a sincere laugh and enough stories to keep you listening to him forever. He had a full head of white hair and light blue eyes that always made you feel exactly like he wanted you to feel. He had a long, shaft-like nose that only got bigger as the years went by. The people that lived in this rural community loved this amiable old man from New York from #FF0000 ">Too many "from"'s. I'm confused. the minute he arrived, and no one ever suspected #FF0000 ">(not in their wildest dreams!) that he was one of the most notorious criminals of his time. Everyone he met here in British Colombia always #FF0000 ">[had the hunch that he looked younger#FF0000 ">] How can you have a hunch that someone looks like something they're not? Wouldn't you just know? than he really was, but they could never be sure.

Mr. Daniels never told anyone his age.

Mr. Peters was a bitter, arrogant #FF0000 ">This sounds like you are just thinking of two random negative adjectives and throwing them in here. Remember: show, don't tell. man who was maybe fifty-four years old #FF0000 ">Don't think I need to know his age. . He was also very lucky. People had warned him not to “smoke away his life” for the past forty years, but #FF0000 ">his daily pack #FF0000 ">that suited him just fine of cigarettes did not cause the slightest hint of a cancer or any other health issue. For many years he served as Mr. Daniels’ protégé, and since his mentor retired he was in complete control of one of the most infamous gangs in the New York area. A smile from him was rare, and a smile from him #FF0000 ">[for a reason in good taste#FF0000 ">] Doesn't make sense. was almost unheard of.

Mr. Peters drank the last of the coffee and set it down next to the first one. He paused a moment before looking up at his mentor and said, “So how’s life up here treating you, Pop?” #FF0000 ">Doesn't really fit the character you just described.

A smile glowed across every corner of the old man’s face. “I love it here! The people are wonderful, and I love my place.” #FF0000 ">A little abrupt. Be more casual here. Say, "Oh, it's fine." Or something like that.

“Where do you live?”

“I found a mansion in the middle of the woods#FF0000 ">. #FF0000 ">It comes with forty acres of land #FF0000 ">that’s mine.”

“Wow. I wish I could come up here to hide #FF0000 ">Hide? Not sure I like this. . You found a woman here yet?”

“No. As much as I love it here, I go down to Vermont as much as I can to see my grandchildren, and my ex-wife and I have been getting along. You should meet my oldest grandson. He’s fourteen now. Where does the time-“

“Mr. Daniels? I’m sorry, but I came here to discuss something serious.” #FF0000 ">Again. Not really in character. Just flat-out interrupt him.

It only took a peripheral glance at the old man to see that he was offended. Mr. Peters sighed, took his coat off, and put it on the seat #FF0000 ">next to him.

“I’m planning a big #FF0000 ">A big? in a couple months, and I need you back.”

If he had remained silent for another moment, one would have seen the slightest tear shed from Mr. Daniels’s right eye #FF0000 ">Do you need to be silent to see something? Getting the senses mixed up.. He slouched back, waved his hand at Mr. Peters #FF0000 ">to tell him to explain, and said, “Fuck you.” #FF0000 ">Uh, doesn't really fit well with the tear image.

Mr. Peters continued, “In maybe July, I want to get maybe thirteen or fourteen men together to execute a robbery of a casino in Atlantic City. This would be huge, and I would need all the assistance I can get.”

“Who are your main men #FF0000 ">to get this done? I hope Mr. Stephens is involved.”

“Of course Mr. Stephens is involved. Mr. Stephens, Mr. Walters, and these three brothers are basically doing this on their own #FF0000 ">Doing what on their own? , and they’re recruiting more men.”

“Who’re the three brothers?”

“I don’t know their names, and we haven’t given them fake names yet. But since Mr. Stephens is friends with them, he knows all their real names.”

“That’s not good. I’m assuming you’ve met them before; what are they like?”

“Well, the oldest one is everyone’s favorite. He’s well-mannered, clear-headed, charming, and smart enough to make his way. I hate the other two.”

“Why?”

“They’re total pricks. They’re young, stupid, arrogant, and rash #FF0000 ">Using too many adjectives. This sounds exactly like how you described the first brother. . The youngest one isn’t even that bad, actually. He’s outspoken and one of the best assassins I’ve ever met. But it’s the middle brother that I really hate. You’ll meet him.”

Mr. Peters took from his pocket a plane ticket, and set it on the table in front of Mr. Daniels. He looked at his watch.

“Now that you mention it, the three brothers are in the middle of robbing some rubies with Mr. Stephens in Northern Westchester.”

He lounged back, seeming satisfied with this proclamation.

Mr. Daniels looked somber and disgusted.

“Mr. Daniels? I know this seems wrong, but you and I have known each other for years and years. We’ve been through the
worst of what life throws at us, #FF0000 ">for eleven long years. I want to know something.”

“You’re a fag.” #FF0000 ">Contradicts how you described him earlier.

“Can you tell me what your real name is?” Mr. Peters leaned in across the table.

“No.” Mr. Daniels looked up to say this, and then looked back down.

“Oh, come on. You and I know each other better than our own dicks. Listen, I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“No.”

“Listen, Mr. Daniels. I only want the best for you. Just tell me.” His expression became threatening.#FF0000 ">

“No.”

At this, Mr. Peters stood up, took his jacket off of the seat, and put it on. He did his best to make his expression appear sincere and apologetic.

“Mr. Daniels, you are my father and I love you. But mark my words #FF0000 ">Too strong of words for a hope. , I hope that one day, your favorite grandson finds out that his granddaddy had a fake name his entire life to hide from the cops.” He looked back at Mr. Daniels one more time, and began walking towards the door.

Mr. Daniels was not a stupid man. He did not tell Mr. Peters his name because he felt threatened by this, because he felt bad about this, or even because he felt like a dishonest man. He told Mr. Peters his name because there was nothing he could do or say that would change the fact that #FF0000 ">Mr. Peters (I'm guessing; if not, than I'm thoroughly confused)was the son that Mr. Daniels never had, and time was catching up with him faster than he ever thought.

Mr. Peters was only a few steps from their table when Mr. Daniels called, “Hey! Get back here!”
#FF0000 ">(Space here)
The middle-aged man slowly stopped, turned around, and started back towards his old friend. #FF0000 ">Mr. Daniels (Again, guessing) seemed much older now than before; his blue eyes seemed to have lost their effect, his hair seemed thinner, and the pronounced wrinkles on his face made it obvious that he had seen better days.

“Sylvester Marco Cruz. That was my name.”

The look of satisfaction painted across Mr. Peters’ face was almost mocking. He checked his watch one more time and
placed his hand on the plane ticket. “The plane to New York leaves Tuesday. I expect you to be at home by Friday. We can’t postpone this.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Don’t miss that flight.” Mr. Peters started towards the exit.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuck off!” He pushed the door ahead of him and let it close behind #FF0000 ">him.

Within the next hour, customers walking into the Rocky Café probably noticed a familiar-looking old man sitting far away with his face buried in his hands.


Okay. Good work. I'll be back to take a look at the rest tomorrow.

-Kafka




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Mon Feb 14, 2011 10:47 pm
megsug wrote a review...



Hey,
I'm here to review. I was actually planning on reviewing this anyway.
This was good. I write more fluffy literature with more description, so this is definitely a nice contrast. It just shows how everyone can have their own way of writing. I like the complexities of the characters, but I have a few questions. Let's get on with the review.

(1)
I would name your chapter one a prolouge since it isn't actually the beginning of the story but the end. It's a little confusing.

Mr. Daniels took a prolonged stare at his beverage
This doesn't sound right. "Took a... stare" is my main problem. I would try something like, "Mr. Daniels stared into his murky beverage." Of course, that isn't great, but maybe you want to try to describe something other than his stare.

“Sure.”Mr. Peters pulled down the left sleeve of his jacket to look at the time on his wristwatch; the ninth time in about eleven minutes.
There are a few nitpicks with this sentence. One, you need a space before Mr. Two, he would actually be pulling his sleeve up his arm to look at his watch. And, the clause behind the semicolon isn't a complete sentence, thus you would probably be better off using a comma.

Legend has it that one man who found it too inconvenient to walk back down committed suicide by jumping off a nearby cliff.
For forgetting their money?

Mr. Peters was a bitter, arrogant man who was maybe fifty-four years old.
This age is too exact to have a maybe in front of it. I would say instead say, "early to mid-fifties.

since his mentor retired he was in complete control of one of the most infamous gangs in the New York area.
You need a had after mentor.

“I’m planning a big in a couple months, and I need you back.”
A big what? Heist?

If he had remained silent for another moment, one would have seen the slightest tear shed from Mr. Daniels’s right eye. He slouched back, waved his hand at Mr. Peters to tell him to explain, and said, “Fuck you.”
This doesn't make sense because Mr. Peters has to remain silent for Mr. Daniels to curse.

He’s outspoken and one of the best assassins I’ve ever met.
Is being outspoken supposed to be a good thing or is that why Mr. Peters doesn't like him?

“Can you tell me what your real name is?” Mr. Peters leaned in across the table.
This happened very quickly with very little transition. Your conversation so far has taken many sudden turns.

His expression became threatening.”
You don't need that quotation mark.

he was the son that Mr. Daniels never had
How did he get grandkids?

Lewis lay with his eyes open, looking unaffected.
Jackie took a few steps towards the two men, and kneeled down. He leaned forward so that his face and Lewis’ face were almost touching.
Before now, Lewis' face was pressed against the floor. You might want to tell us which part since otherwise this would be physically impossible.

“Lewis, you and I are excellent friends. This is because you and my boss are excellent friends. However, you did something to him for reasons I do not understand. You stole thousands of dollars from him when he let his guard down. That is why we are here today, to rob you of your millions of dollars worth of rubies. Unfortunately, when we broke into your home, your daughter escaped the house, drove off, and probably notified the police. Because of that, we need the combination to this safe as soon as possible. Would you be able to do that for us?”
Up until now your dialouge has been great. This paragraph is just to give us history, and it's wooden. I would say you should even narrarate this instead, but it's up to you.

The third and fourth numbers were thirty-four and eight; He did not have to ask for the fifth and last number.
“Fourteen.”
I like the dramatic effect here, but we don't need to know the actual numbers unless they hold some signifigance later on. I don't care a bout the third and forth numbers. I do like how Lewis just says the fifth number though.

The first to arrive was a man aged maybe thirty
This gets repetitive. Maybe such and such old. You don't have to have maybe. Just have a general age group like thirties.

His name was Ronnie Miller.
I don't like how you introduced him here. I'm afraid I don't have something else for you though.

Had it not been for his daughter, he would not have recalled that he had just been robbed.
Not to mention the missing rubies. ;)

And for a very long time, no one spoke of this again.
I didn't like this ending. I would probably end this with something on the brothers instead... but I'm not sure.


That's what I found. You're moving the plot along, and you cleared some things up. The story is just as interesting as when we began.
Tell me when the next chapter is out,
Megsug





You can't choose your parentage. But you can choose your legacy.
— Rick Riordan, The Blood of Olympus