First draft

Sam and the Cougar

He took a piss. Whenever Sam was not sure of the next step he would head to the bathroom and get rid of some doubt, some negatives and just clean out his system.
He stood there ridding himself of some shame, guilt or other phony emotion he was feeling while staring out the window. He thought about all the disparities in this world – how the scales of justice were never truly equal. It was all just a lie, some bullshit taught in schools and churches around the world. “God has his plan”or“It all works out for the best.” Tell that to the ones on the lower end of the scales.
There was no parity in a world where 16, 000 children die each day of hunger, while there is Mrs. Frank across the street wearing around six thousand dollars in clothing and jewelry. She is walking towards her 80 thousand dollar car to drive to go meet her husband’s best friend’s son at the Hilton on Sixth Avenue. More than likely her pocket book, alone worth around fifteen hundred, is carrying cash in the hundreds, credit cards that can charge unlimited and a vile of cocaine just delivered by her Spanish gardener. Who she haggled with last month when he told her his fee would be going up.
It’s not like she is alone in all this – it’s all in fashion these days for “Cougars” to be carrying on with their friends kids on the sly. I knew three of my friends were doing the same thing I was, who wouldn’t? Watching her walk it looks like an advertisement in the help wanted section;
Mrs. Diana Frank, hot woman in her early fifties, able to afford whatever you ask for, top notch drugs with no strings attached. Must be 23 and under to apply.
She pulls away without even checking if anyone else is in her path. She pulls away without realizing the road kill left behind, not even a glance into the rearview window.
He zips up and realizes he needs to get going if he is going to get to the Hilton not too long after she gets there. He pulls his hair, straightens his collar and throws on his jacket. He jumps into his car, his eighty thousand dollar car (birthday present for turning 19 years old that he doesn’t even pay gas for), and pulls away. Rearview mirror not used – full power ahead no looking back.

Jackson Frank
The Blackberry vibrates and a picture of his wife is shown on the screen. He is thrusting as he sees her image turn on and then turn off as the vibrating stops. He feels distracted – pulls out and lays beside her. She sits on top of him and he looks into her eyes trying to remember her name.” Is it Cynthia or Cindy?” As he thrusts his last thrust into this intern whose name he cannot remember – “Caroline?” He feels a sharp pain his in chest. He pushes her off of him and she falls off the bed onto the floor.
A quick film strip of memories hit him quick. His mother waiting for him on the corner as the school bus drops him off from school. His father whispering into the kitchen phone, “Never call here again.” His dog leaving without a chance to say goodbye. His 15th birthday with his brothers and sisters all singing as a cake with candles awaited his wish. His graduating from Law School, his partnership and his first affair with his secretary as she blew him from under his desk. His children being born. His wife telling him that she knew about his “fucking around” but it was ok as long as he brought home the cash and they didn’t have to pretend to eachother.
A sharp pain. Cindy, Cynthia or Caroline stands up and says, “Oh shit.” Picks up the phone and says…

The Widow
​Her phone vibrated as she was waiting for the kid to knock on the door.
“Is this Mrs. Frank?”
“Yes, who is this calling?”
“This is Lieutenant Roberts from the…”
It was then that she learned that her husband was gone. She lit her cigarette and got dressed. She left a note on the bed saying that “Something had come up.” And walked out towards the elevator. As the elevator fell towards the lobby she felt a shudder, a tear and a sense of sadness. It was over.
​In the lobby there was a commotion as a body was being rolled across the floor in a gurney. A young girl followed with her shirt untucked outside her pants and her phone to her ear. She was frantic and was told to stop. She stood there, found a chair and began to shake.
​Diane had not been to Jackson’s office in over 5 years or so – there was no way she would have recognized the intern as her husband’s assistant. There was no way her mind could even conceive that the body they just put into a van, was her late husband.