My name is Terry Henkins, also known as Ace on the streets. I'm 6 ft exactly. I have brown hair, blue eyes and the abs of a God. So, I don't have abs of a God but I do have abs. I'm average in the looks department. I've been living with my mom for the past 27 years and I still don't have a good job. I am insanely clean but doctors have not declared it as an OCD. Although, I'm pretty sure it is a medical problem. I'm sure it's a medical problem because I also have a Web MD addiction too. I drink wine out of the box. I sleep on a king sized mattress in my mom's garage. Each time my father goes to work, the car lights temporarily blind my eyes. He blinds me on purpose. My life in one word is trapped, but I love the fact that God still blesses me with breath each morning.
With all my problems,the only thing that makes it all worthwhile is chasing the almighty dollar. When I have cash my eyes are blind and the world seems invisible. It's as if for a short time my life is perfect until the money fades and my pockets are empty again. Then I'm back to square one, left to deal with all the problems that money erased while I was happy. So, the only way to fix the emptiness is to chase the dollar again, hoping that each payday will be better than the last. It's a fool's game, but I love to play.
I slipped out the backdoor of the hotel as usual when I overheard a conversation in the alley. Before anyone could spot me I backed up against the wall hiding my face behind some empty trash cans. A rat caressed my foot sending chills down the back of my spine--disgusting. Two men dressed in casual attire stood rather close to each other, talking. The guy in blue handed the guy in black a small brown envelope.
" The painting is in transport." The guy in blue stated.
"It needs to be here by Thursday." He put it in his pocket then looked around several times. He put his hand on the guy's shoulder.
" Don't worry, it will be here by then..." The guy in blue reassured him.
" What about Charlie?" he replied.
" He's being taken care of as we speak. Charlie, has failed to cooperate with any of us until now. He's willing to talk if his demands are met. Should we wait for your word?"
"No, don't change anything go on as planned. I have a feeling he won't try anything anytime soon." He pulled out a memory chip from his pocket and fiddled it in his hands. "We have something he wants..." A devilish grin appeared on his face.He laughed.
I leaned over to get a closer look at the men. Then,I accidentally tipped a trash can. Both men looked in my direction. But They couldn't see me, I still hid behind one trash can.
"It's probably just rats,sir!" He looked to see if anyone was watching.
" Who's transporting?"
"Mike landsky, sir"
"Good..."
The guy in the black suit was still a mystery to me until he
walked out far enough for me to catch a glimpse of his face. His hands fell to his side, revealing an official government ring. He turned around for a moment and I saw him smile. I couldn't believe what I witnessed, my eyes surely betrayed me. It was the Mayor. Our Mayor!
I get up around nine, leave the house and go do my job everyday. I'm suppose to leave out at eight but my body never gets the memo. Am I lazy? No, I'm not lazy. I just prefer not to work harder than most people. Mom calls the house everyday at exactly eight thirty to see if I'm still there. I don't answer. I just sit there and count the rings until she stops calling. Then I leave out and go to work.
"Mike is on the 9th floor Presidential suite. He needs his bags carried up and he's coming in through the back entrance to avoid the press. I need you to go get his things and take them upstairs. You think you can handle this?"
"Yes, I can carry his things with no problem. Are you sure this is the guy?"
"I'm sure this is the one. He just came back in town for a meeting but it's definitely him. He's one of our best hotel guests, so make sure you take care of him. If you do it right, you might get a nice tip!" Ramen smiled. He pointed at the staircase.
I turned around. "You are wrong. I always get a nice tip."
I have never looked for a job. They just come to me. I pawn. How? Let's just say items find interesting ways of falling into my hands. Stealing? No, that word isn't even in my vocabulary.Pawn is code for manipulate. Persons who are very skilled in the art of handling people and getting things they want.
One time, a man from New York came into town on a business trip and stayed in our hotel downtown. I remembered his face when I saw him because he worked for the Mayor in Chicago. He had an attitude like most men of his stature,--arrogant. Standing tall in an Armani suit in front of the hotel, he signaled a man to get his bags. The shoes on his feet were crocodile, and his arm flashed a fresh Rolex watch. This man was rich.--rich enough to stay in 3,000 a night hotels and sip champagne on a private jet. He stood at the door,confident. He was what I called the gold card. The gold card is what we call the perfect score. They are big risks that pay off much bigger.
My parents thought that I had no plans for the future, not knowing that I had been saving up for many years. A hundred thousand two-hundred fifty dollars was the nest egg of smart work from pawning, selling, and side jobs. I hid the money in the basement of our house inside an old dusty heating vent. Air from the passage of the vent had no way to escape, which meant it was definitely time for a new hiding place. Sure, I could have told my parents I had money to leave but then would come all the awkward questioning. "Where did you get that money? Did you get a new job? How long have you been hiding this from us? Can we trust you anymore?" Telling my parents would only bring up more topics up for debate that I wasn't ready to discuss. My lips were sealed until I could decide on the appropriate moment.It would remain a secret. They probably would find out on the day I decided to move out.
"Can I help you?" Mike looked at me with a stern face.
"Will that be all?" I replied while rubbing my fingers together.
"You want a tip..." He reached in his wallet and pulled out a twenty.I mumbled slightly under my breath suggesting he pull out a bigger bill. He looked at me, paused, and then reached for the fifty that was in between the twenty and a ten. I had sharp vision. Intellect was something I pride myself in attaining. Most importantly, I was good at getting anything I wanted.
"Will that be all?" He tried to grab the luggage from my hand but I held on to the handle. I looked straight into his face forcing his eyes to meet mine.
"Do the feds know about the stolen Monet you have hidden in your luggage?"
"Are you a bellhop or an FBI agent?" He released the handle, stood upright and put his hands into his pockets.
"I'm neither, but if you want to stay under the radar, you are going to need someone to transport that painting safely. That's where I come in. You are going to pay me to take the Monet and put it back where it belongs and you won't get arrested in the process."
"Don't know what you are talking about."
"If you are going to hide a stolen painting, then you shouldn't make it so easy for a person to get into your room... And the Mayor should always check to make sure his conversations are private." I nodded at him to say that I wasn't a real employee.
"What do I have to do to make you go away?"
"Give me the Monet. My people will handle the situation and your hands will stay clean. Everyone wins..."
"Who do you work for? Who sent you?" He looked at my clothing, trying to point out the irony from my bellhop uniform. I could tell he was sizing me up from the minute I spoke the words Monet.
"I don't work for anyone, and as for who sent me here, let's just say...God!"
"What about the Mayor? He thinks I'm transporting, no one else is suppose to know about this transaction."
"If you let me handle and get it back safely, no one ever will..."
"Fine, Meet me here tomorrow at noon. Wear better clothes next time." He signaled me to leave out the door.
I walked from his room and headed towards the elevator. I undressed while walking down the hallway, then dumped the stolen uniform into the trash can. I got off at the main floor and walked straight out the front door as I gave the concierge a head nod. It was done. I had my gold card waiting for me the next day. This job would pay off big time.
My name is Terry Henkins and I am a con man.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,855 Reviews
Hi there Myrisha.
First things first, I think it's a good concept for a story you've got going. I mean, it's not everyday someone writes with a con man as a protagonist. It's actually rather smart and creative. However, the thing now is to execute that concept with professionalism, ease and sophistication.
A) Beginnings. There are so many different ways to start a story. If you're having troubles or don't know how to start one, here's a good article by one of our own. With beginnings, you have to win over the reader in the first line and if you're really lucky, you might even have the first paragraph and maybe the second to really catch their attention. Sometimes it seems hard to find a way for one sentence to encompass so much intrigue and mystery or even the simplest of lines can be found attractive to some people. Below is an example of the first sentence of the novel I am in the midst of writing:
Right there, I am stating the protagonist of the story (Elisabeth) and the plot (she was born a sin). It's appealing to the reader. Usually, that's what a typical and attractive starting sentence should be comprised of: protagonist and plot. But not always. In fact, a lot of authors don't. But I'm only typing the very basics.
The way you have started is not bad, it is not shameful. However, it is a fairly elementary beginning and here at YWS we like to broaden our horizons. Stir up the mix a bit. Perhaps your first line could be something along the lines of:
So we can get a sense of the protagonist (I - it also tells us what kind of point of you the author is using) and the plot (something to do with the MC (main character) being a con man). Really, you can get rid of all this information about Terry you've supplied the audience with. It's needless and redundant, to be blunt. If you'd like to describe him in such detail, I suggest you switch the POV used to third person limited omniscient or simply third person omniscient. That way, one can describe characters far easier than with first person. The way you've detailed Terry sounds very methodical and very boring. Remember, first person is like the MC himself speaking thus one writes how one thinks. I am sure you do not think: "My name is Googa. I am five foot four. I like asparagus. I eat oranges for breakfast."
It's really bizarre. So, with first person, write thoughts mostly. Description is used when the protagonist is viewing something from his or her own eyes.
I think with those adjustments, your story would be all the more better.
Another thing is even if you are in first person, remember that whatever Terry sees, you see. Describe these sights, his smells. Use all five senses when writing and use them to your advantage. That way, it a sure way to appeal to the reader and it traps them like a cat does a mouse. Sight, smell, touch, hearing and taste. They're five things that you should always be thinking of subconsciously when writing something, especially with first person and third person omniscient and limited omniscient.
If you have any questions about this review, don't hesitate to shoot me a PM
Yours,
Lavvie