The Life and Times of Jules Vercini

Nate glanced up at the stucco ceiling, his eyes tracing the thin cracks from their base of origin - the lamp - to their final resting-places along the walls. It was strange, he considered, how a simple ceiling lamp and its branching cracks were so much like life, like the common birth of all individuals into the world and the various degrees of their development until they die.
For a minute Nate sat perfectly still, studying the small ruin of his old home, before returning to his book to read the next paragraph:
"We're like actors, turned loose in this world to wander in search of a phantom, endlessly searching for a half formed shadow of our lost reality. When others
demand that we become the people they want us to be, they force us to destroy
the person we really are. It's a subtle kind of murder." - Jim Morrison
Nate grinned to himself at Jim’s small error. The point of existence was not to remove the mask, he realized, but to see it and to know it, because by knowing it, we know ourselves. The mask was always strongest in the weakest areas of the soul, that way we achieved a sort of external perfection.
An abrupt banging at the door suddenly jolted Nate from his thoughts, and placing his book on his desk, he stood up to stretch before answering it. Although he wasn't in the mood for visitors, he was even less tolerant of their knocking, so he hoped to silence the irksome noise and dispatch the visitor promptly.
Racing down the corridor to the main exit, Nate swung open the door. "Yeah," he murmured automatically, but then stepped back in surprise. It was Julian, and he was wearing blue-jeans and a t-shirt.
"Hey," Jules muttered under his breath, glancing around with the kind of paranoia one usually saw in a crack addict. "Can I come in?"
Nate opened his mouth to respond but before he could utter a single phrase Julian rushed inside and spun around to face his friend.
"Shut the door! Shut the door!" he screamed as if is life depended upon it.
Nate knew it was not unusual for Jules to overreact, but just in case he slammed the door. "Julian, have you been in the household cleaners again?" he asked as he instinctually retreated to the sanctuary of his study
"You know I don't do that!" his visitor protested as he gazed around the room. "It can kill you and besides, it’s a cheap way to get high. It's just that you live in a really bad neighborhood. There were hoodlums on the corner."
Nate chucked to himself at his visitor’s naivety. Jules was always good for a drug-free trip. "I live in the suburbs and those are teenagers. How'd you find me anyway? More of your connections?"
"I used the phonebook for your information," Jules snapped defensively. "I'm fully capable of perusing the residential listings."
Nate smiled. "Ok, why are you here then?"
Suddenly Julian became nervous. "I came here to beg for my life."
At this Nate's jaw dropped. Undoubtedly Julian had been inhaling pharmaceuticals because he sounded like a stark, raving lunatic.
"I'm sorry, I…I must be missing some crucial point here because I don't see how I can help you," he said at last.
"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
Julian's wide-eyed stare almost made Nate feel sorry for whatever Julian thought he was going to do. The poor lad was scared out of his mind.
"I'm not going to kill you," Nate assured him. "I don't understand why you're under the impression that I am, but I'm not. Now, let me show you the lovely hallway that leads to the outside door…"
"Then I need your help."
Nate sighed heavily. It was clear his visitor wasn't going to leave.
"Alright. What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Ana hates me,” Julian replied, folding his arms in front of him as he mimicked a pout.
"She doesn't hate you…"
"Yes she does. I went to her apartment to sing an apology to the theme of 'Green Acres' and she slammed the door in my face."
"That was probably smart," Nate remarked. "I'll talk to her."
"Really?!"
"Yes, really," answered Nate. "It's not your fault you're cerebrally flatulent. She should have pity on you - everyone should have pity on you."
"Pity, yes, pity. That's it! Thank-you! Thank-you! Thank-you!" Julian cheered, and for a moment it looked as if he were about to embrace Nate, but then he backed off.
After what appeared to be an infinite period of silence to Nate but was only a matter of seconds to Julian, Julian spoke. "Well. That's that."
"Yes, that is that," Nate responded, as he realized Julian was not getting the picture. "Have you seen my hallway by the way? Have I asked you that yet?"
"Yes, once. I've seen it."
"Great. Do you want to see it again?"
"On my way out, yes."
"Will you be leaving anytime soon? Do you want a bottled water to take with you?"
Nate inquired.
"What kind?"
"It's generic."
"Then no."
"I kinda figured that," Nate muttered under his breath.
"So…you like Morrison I presume?" Jules asked, gazing down at several books that lay on Nate's desk. Meandering over to the table, he commenced scanning them one at a time.
"Yes."
"I've read "Wilderness". It contains his lost writings…"
Nate stared at Julian in disbelief. This flamboyant cult-of-personality had suddenly become very interesting.
"You've read Morrison."
"Yes."
"And you understand Morrison/?” Nate asked, still shocked from Julian’s’ prior statement.
“For the most part.”
Nate glared at Julian. "Where is Julian and what have you done with him?" he said finally.
“Hah, Hah. Very funny,” replied Julian sarcastically, turning now to address his host.
“Why haven’t you said anything about this before?” Nate inquired.
“You never asked.”
Nate studied his visitor for moment. "Why the secrecy then, Julian? One moment you're dressed in saran wrap flirting with the Prince of Wales and the next you're telling me you've read a book that has nothing to do with make-up or shoes. Have you gone insane?"
"No!" Julian answered defensively. "I’m not an imbecile for God's sake, it's just that I have my priorities in order."
"I question what you consider priorities," Nate muttered under his breath.
"Nate, do you know what would happen to me if anyone knew that I read?" Julian whispered.
"You'd get respect?"
"No. "They'd make fun of me. I would never hear the end of it: 'Julian reads, can you believe that?', and they'd point and laugh and stick books in my coat pockets and calculators in my shirts and call me 'nerd'. I would be the talk of all the social circles. I'd never be able to appear in public again."
Nate smirked. "Don't you think you're exaggerating some?"
"No," Julian snipped. "You have no clue how the fashion world is. I have a reputation to protect."

Nate wondered why on earth anyone would want to protect such a reputation, but he chucked it up to Julian's love for the limelight. Still, he couldn't help but felt sorry for Julian. Ana's rejection had clearly affected him because, under normal circumstances, Julian wouldn't be caught dead in the suburbs.
Luckily for his visitor, Nate had already been working on a trip to smooth things over between Jules and Ana. Ever since the dispute, Ana had been suffering terribly so that he almost felt obliged to help resolve their conflict. He hoped a trip to the mountains would reunite the two; the only thing left to do now was to pop the question.
“Do you like camping?” Nate asked Jules.
“What?"
"Do you like camping?" he repeated.
Julian looked confused. "Camping – you mean, like, out in the woods?”
“Yes.”
”Sure."
“Really? And you’re ok with living in a tent?” Nate inquired.
“Absolutely.”
“And not taking a shower every day?”
“Bathing is not a prerequisite for beauty - at least for me,” Jules bragged.
“And not having household utilities?”
“I'll bring the toilet paper.”
“And not having access to your clothes?”
At this Julian paused hesitantly. “I could always tow a U-Haul..." he began.
“Hell no,” Nate declared. “If you’re going camping, you have to do it right. No U-Haul, no designer clothes, just rugged jeans, an old t-shirt and hiking boots. That’s it.”
Julian thought for a moment. "Then I’m ok with it," he answered excitedly. "Why, are we going camping together?"
"I'm not there yet, Julian. Give me some time. Who knows, maybe one day I'll be able to take a piss in front of you…"
“Well, believe it or not, Nate” Julian interrupted, hoping to prove his masculinity to his new friend, “I’m not a complete sissy. I actually prefer women when it comes to relationships.”
Nate’s jaw dropped again. Julian actually liked Morrison and women. It was mind-boggling – this news – like something out of the Twilight Zone.
“I'm sorry?"
"I like women - actually, I love women. They're beautiful creatures."
"You…dig women?”
“Yes – but don’t take it personally,” Julian warned. “I mean, you’re really quite hot and I certainly wouldn't mind…”
“No...no...that’s ok. I’m ok with it, really. I mean, you like women. Imagine that.”
“Kind of hard for you, isn’t it?” Julian inquired.
“Yes,” answered Nate. For a few moments the two sat in silence while Nate scrutinized Julian. Undoubtedly the guy was being sincere, but just in case, Nate decided to give him a test. “So, when you were posing with Ana, did you -- were you…aroused by the situation?”
“Ummm…"
“Now, be honest,” said Nate. “I really want you to tell the truth, because the truth will set you free--as they say.”
The whole thought of Nate strangling him now made Julian panic. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion.
“I promise not to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me?”
“No.”
“Well...yeah....kind of,” Julian said weakly.
Suddenly Nate’s face lit up with excitement. “Wow – I guess Cass wasn’t a cover-up after all. Welcome to my world, Julian.”
“What world?”
“Cause you know,” Nate reflected, “if you had said ‘No’ it would’ve meant you were gay. I would’ve told you just to hang it up with women because you had no hope. If anyone should make a gay man question his own sexuality, it’s Ana.”
“Oh, I know,” agreed Julian. “Ana’s an incredibly beautiful woman. If you weren’t dating her I’d...”
“Ok. That’s enough. I’m convinced now so you can stop.”
"Sorry."
"No, don't be. Just - from now on, you're not allowed to take naked pictures of her. And I don't want you in her bedroom late at night."
"Ok."
"In fact, you're not allowed to see her nude - ever."
"That really hadn't happened before the pictures…"
"And you are never, under any circumstances, to offer her a drink. You know she has a problem with alcohol. If I find out you slept with her, I'll hurt you. But if I find out you got her drunk, I'll kill you, understand?"
"Absolutely no problem," Julian exhaled deeply. He wasn't going to die after all.
"Now," Nate announced. "Let me see you to my hallway. I'll talk to Ana and work out something so we can all go camping together. And oh, you need to ask Cass."
"Cass hates my guts too," Julian lamented. "She saw the pictures…"
"Well talk to her. Tell her you're going to take her camping with me and Ana to try to smooth things over between us all. Use your charm, Julian. You can be charming when you want to be…"
"I can, can't I?"
"But I suggest you forgo the saran wrap and eyeliner this time around."
"That's only for special occasions."
"Like when you met the Prince of Wales."
"Yes," he responded. "I had to make a statement."
"You made a statement alright. I'll call you when Ana's ready to talk."
"Great!" Julian responded, then turned to leave. Everything was going to be ok. Nate wasn't going to kill him, he'd work things through with Cass, and Ana would finally forgive him. The last thought by itself filled him with such happiness that he smiled as he walked right past the hoodlums. He'd get to see the beloved Anastasia soon - when they all went camping in the woods.

When Nate first invited Ana on the camping trip, she thought he had permanently lost his senses – until she remembered that it was Nate who was asking the question. While most people would be furious over their significant other appearing sans clothes with someone else on the front cover of a magazine, Nate was so absorbed in social evils like starvation and terrorism that his own circumstances seemed trivial by comparison. Thus it came as no surprise to her that he would attempt to negotiate peace between her and Jules, yet sometimes his unwavering and complete faith left her baffled, especially when her charming friend was part of the equation.
Nevertheless, for Nate’s sake she agreed to go, so on the day of the trip Ana and Nate packed his Hummer and waited patiently outside for Jules and Cass to arrive. Their plan was to meet in the parking lot and ride together in Nate’s truck, but when Jules and Cass arrived they quickly trashed that idea.
“We can’t ride in your vehicle,” Jules announced self-righteously, leaning against his new black, fully loaded BMW, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest.
Nate looked irked. “Why?”
“Because it's bad for the environment.” he retorted as if this knowledge obligated all humans to undertake economical transportation.
Nate regarded Jules for a moment then broke out in a smile. “Ok, Julian,” he sniggered, “how do you propose we get up there? By plane?”
“I have a truck,” Jules answered.
Nate narrowed his hazel eyes towards Jules. “Uh...so do I.”
“Yes, but your truck is a Hummer. It’s a behemoth piece of exorbitant equipment that gets ten miles to the gallon and hogs up all the space on the road. It’s the most nonessential vehicle I have ever seen.”
Nate’s face slowly clouded over, the first sign of what Ana knew to be an impending storm. He loved his truck – it was his baby. Occasionally she’d find him in his garage or in the parking lot with his head laid gently upon the hood, as if it was his mother’s lap. Jules had no idea he was treading on sacred ground while mocking the Hummer.
Nate cleared his throat in an effort to maintain control. “Alright Julian. Go home and get your truck. We’ll drive up separately,” he said calmly.
“Agreed.”
Ana watched as the two parted ways, Julian returning to his car to retrieve his truck and Nate disappearing into the apartment to make final preparations.
It was strange, she considered, how two people could be so very opposite from each other and yet so much alike. On one hand, with their curly brown hair and eyes Nate and Jules could have easily been brothers, and both were obstinate in their own opinions. On the other hand, their dispositions were entirely and radically different: while Nate preferred solitude with his books, Jules only thrived in a mass of gregarious people.
Ana only hoped they wouldn’t end up killing each other before it was all over.

***

It was early afternoon by the time Julian returned with his truck, a modest Ford Escape, and they all departed for the Blue Ridge Mountains. After several hours of tedious driving the group finally arrived at Crabtree Falls, a quaint spot located off the main road. The scene that stood before them was absolutely breathtaking. Autumn was quickly approaching and the leaves had started to change to various shades of yellow, orange and red – ‘Nature’s Tapestry’ Nate called it.
It reminded Ana of that old Frost poem, “Nature’s First Green is Gold.” She knew Nate was familiar with that verse but she wasn’t so sure about Jules. Ana never saw him read, so she found it amazing each semester when he made Dean’s List with an “A” average. She suspected that the Vercini empire was purchasing his grades, although she had no proof for her belief.
Still it wouldn’t have surprised her at all if that were the case. The Vercini’s were an eccentric but powerful bunch of people. She had met Jules mother only once. Mrs. Vicini had long, blonde hair, blue eyes and tanned skin that was wrinkled from excessive sun exposure. When she shook Ana’s hand the diamonds on her fingers had sparkled brightly, transforming into an amazing array of colors that were reflected back by her long, white prism-coated nails. Ana remembered being mesmerized by the sight until Mrs. Vicini spoke and asked “How are you dahling,” in this rather thick European accent. She had wondered at the time what it would be like to grow up with a mother who said “dahling” and blinded people with her hands.
She had also felt sorry for Jules then, not because his mother was able to blind people but because she was always working so that a nanny had to be employed full-time to care for him while he was growing up. Jules’ mother and father had never married and until he turned 15, Jules did not even know who his father was. Of course, there was great speculation amongst upper society: he was descended from English royalty, he was the son of the head of the Prida empire (a rival fashion house), his father was the leader of the Cecchini crime family in Chicago, and even that he was the lost love-child of Bill Clinton - the rumor that Ana found the most amusing and thus favored in casual conversation. However, it was eventually discovered that all of these rumors were false when, much to everyone’s surprise, the Vercini’s released a statement to the press that Jules’ father was an ordinary Brit by the name of Sidney Cromwell. Unfortunately, they failed to inform Jules of this fact beforehand so that he had to read about it in the papers.
After unpacking their respective vehicles, Jules and Nate began scouting for locations to post their tents, looking for shaded clearings and a brook to stash drinks. Although Ana had resolved to avoid Jules and thus force him into approaching her first, she now found it impossible to stay away from him, and so she casually meandered over under the pretense of discovering where he planned to set up.
Coughing slightly, she began to speak in a calm, disaffected tone. “So, where are you going to pitch your tent?”
“On the other side of the brook,” he answered back.
“That’s lower ground. If it rains you’ll end up wet.”
“I know but the weather report indicated it was going to be clear and sunny,” he countered. “We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about us.”
At this Cass gazed up at Ana like a bull upon seeing the matador’s red flag. Ana kept waiting for her to charge, but Cass only stood there staring at her with fire in her eyes.
“Hi Cass,” Ana offered, hoping to alleviate the tension that was so thick a person could cut it with a knife and serve it for dinner.

“Hi,” she snapped back.
Jules turned to look at his girlfriend. “Touchy today, aren’t we?”
“No, you’re the one that’s touchy,” she hissed, throwing the tent poles on the ground. “You’re touchy with everyone, Jules, especially Ana.”
“I thought that was over and done with. Why are you resurrecting it?”
“It’s not over, Jules. Every time I look at a magazine I see your face and hers.”
“So how long do you plan on tormenting me?” he inquired sharply. “I have no control over the media.”
“You have all the control in the world, Julian Vercini, and you wield it every chance you get,” Cass sneered, and retrieving the poles from the ground, she pretended to erect her own tent.
Sensing the obvious chasm between the two and feeling at least partially responsible for it, Ana asked, or more accurately suggested, ”Hey, uh guys, can we not fight?” .
Much to her surprise, Cass and Jules turned simultaneously to stare at her, their confused expressions reminiscent of inquisitive puppies unable to comprehend the objects before them. Mistaking the look for a common point of agreement, however, Ana sought a swift escape.
“You know, I’m going to go see what Nate is doing. Talk amongst yourselves,” she murmured, quickly retreating into the woods.
“Wait! Ana, wait!” Jules called after her, scurrying up the bank to catch up. “I want to talk to you.”
Grabbing Ana’s hand, Jules drew her farther into the woods, away from both Cass and Nate.
“My lovely Ana,” he uttered softly, pulling her hand up to kiss it. “I am indebted to your mercy. Thank-you for forgiving my egregious behavior.”
“Jules, why do you do this?” she asked sternly.
“Do what?” he inquired, kissing her hand again.
“Woo me like I’m some prestigious lady from the middle-ages,” she responded, assuming a bombastic English accent.
“Why not?” he quipped, placing her hand over his heart. “You are a lady, are you not?”
“Yes I am, but I am Nate’s lady and Cass is yours,” she answered with a quivering voice, for she was secretly delighted by his courting. “You cannot go about romancing various women and kissing their hands. No wonder Cass is mad at you.”
“Cass and I have not been well for a long time,” he remarked. “You know that. Besides, you always play back,” he teased coyly. “I like it.”
A thrill shot through her veins, but she resisted the urge to return his advances. “Go,” she ordered, “before Nate and Cass wonder where we are.”
”Let them wonder. I shall tell them I was sailing the beautiful ship Ana, and we stopped at port for the night.”
“You have a death-wish Jules,” she proclaimed. “One day they will find you brutally murdered in a field, and they will wonder which man you cuckolded was responsible for your death.”
“Say it’s Nate and I’ll gladly die.”
”Stop it!” she ordered unenthusiastically. “I’m changing your name. You shall no longer be Julian; henceforth you shall be known as Romeo: sworn enemy to my kingdom.”
“Then as enemy to your kingdom I shall conquer your estate and steal your land, but you will find me to be a gentle and kindly master.”
Ana couldn’t help but laugh at Jules’ scintillating wit.
“Ana! Ana!”
Immediately she recognized the voice as Nate’s. He was looking for her: she’d been gone too long.
“See, you’re going to get both of us in trouble,” Ana warned. “I have to leave now. Bye.”
As she turned to head back to camp Julian suddenly grabbed her from behind. Whirling her around, he pulled her in close till her face was merely inches away from his, and Ana could smell the sweet scent of his body as it flooded her nostrils. For all of his vices, it was Julian who made Ana swoon the most.
“Ana,” he whispered softly, “Ana, I shall see you again this very night.”
With that he kissed her tenderly, as if she were a fragile vase that might break upon too much pressure. At first she felt the natural urge to push him away and chastise him for his presumptuous behavior, but in the end she didn’t do it -- for there was a part of her that not only wished for his embrace, but wanted more.

“Where were you?” Nate asked upon her return.
“I was looking for sticks for the fire,” Ana lied.
“Forget the fire right now. I need you to help me with the tent. Here, hold this,” he ordered, handing her a pole. She watched on as Nate drove the stakes in the ground, then began constructing the framework.
“Cass hates me,” she said at last.
“Can you blame her?”
“Yes,” she whined. “You don’t hate Jules.”
“That’s because I’m a man. Women are different.”
“Oh really?” she inquired suspiciously. “And how are we different?”
“Forget I said anything. I had a temporary lapse in sanity, but it has returned.”
“No, really, how are we different?” she prodded again.
“Look, Cass is a woman, and...” he said, weighing his words carefully, “as a woman, she’s...well...she can be, you know, histrionic at times...”
“You’re saying she’s melodramatic?” Ana interrupted.
“Well, yes.”
“Because she’s a woman?”
“Well, yes,” Nate answered again.
“Ok, that’s fine,” she remarked offhandedly.
Nate let out a sigh of relief.
“So, conversely, you don’t hate Jules because you’re a guy and not melodramatic?” Ana inquired.
Nate smiled at her with a rather amused expression upon his face. “That’s faulty logic. If A is true that doesn’t automatically imply that B, the opposite of A, is also true. There are other explanations.”
“So, then why don’t you hate Jules?”
“I don’t know,” he answered flippantly. “I guess because I found the photos to be artistically redeemable...and I believe he was clearly inspired, although I now question the motives of his ‘inspiration’. And finally, I guess because I don’t feel threatened by him and, in a way, I feel sorry for the guy. He has problems.”
“Yeah,” Ana confirmed weakly. “He does.”
“I’m not insulting him, Ana.”
“I know,” she answered sadly. “So, how do I make peace with Cass?”
“Time,” he answered. “Time heals all wounds. Right now the injury is fresh and can’t heal because of the press. But, eventually it will all fade from the public eye, and then from her mind. The memory will disappear into the past, and then she’ll be receptive to you.”
“You’re so wise,” Ana praised him.
“I’m not wise; I’m just a good listener.”
At this, Ana turned to gawk at Nate, astounded by his meek humility. Although he'd always been that way it still amazed her, because if anyone had any reason to be prideful, it was Nate. In addition to being creatively and intellectually brilliant the guy was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. She used to laugh watching the girls practically trip over their tongues to get to him after a gig. Ana always wondered why such a man would love her when he could have just about anyone he wanted. It never made any sense to her at all.
Although sometimes - on those rare occasions when Nate would speak about his past – she’d think it had to do with his childhood. It was the only possible explanation, but not in the way one would think.
Nate had been misbegotten in abject poverty. He was born in a dilapidated farm house in the middle of Iowa, which is where his parents had lived at the time, although they later moved into a ramshackle shanty his father had built with his own hands. Neither parent worked, and so they were always wanting for even the basic necessities. Occasionally a local resident would take pity on them and give them some money for food, and then Nate’s father would go into town for groceries. Unfortunately he’d return the next day penniless with nothing but a hangover to show for it.
A local, childless couple named the Grace’s had taken compassion upon Nate, and secretly fed him a hot meal every day after school and bought him new shoes when his were worn out, although every act of their generosity provoked a beating from his mother when he returned home. She would accuse him of stealing and call him a liar when he told her the truth.
To end Nate’s persecution, the couple visited the shanty one day to confirm his story. When Nate came home from school that afternoon, he received a black-eye and broken nose for accepting charity from other folks. Eventually Nate hid his shoes in a plastic box in the woods, so he could wear them without his mother knowing.
When Nate was seven, he stopped going to school. When he didn’t show up to eat for two days, the Graces grew concerned and went to the shanty to check on him. They found him chained to one of the supporting beams, dehydrated and half-starved out of his mind for food. His parents had abandoned him there, left him like the shanty to which he was chained.
Nate never saw his biological parents again.
The Graces had taken him in, eventually legally adopting him as their own son. Nate had told Ana that for the rest of his youth, he had known nothing but happiness with his new parents. They fed him, cared for him, bought him clothes, enrolled him in sports, read him books and taught him the general wisdom of life, but most of all, he had told me, they loved him. It was their love that had helped him recover from all his childhood pain.
For this reason he had been absolutely heartbroken when, at the age of sixteen, he found out his parents had died in a plane crash on their way back home from England. Nate and some of his relatives had planned the funeral accordingly, but they could not have anticipated the turn-out for the event. The large church, which could easily seat a thousand, was standing room only. Apparently the Grace’s generosity knew no bounds, although no one was aware to what extent they were munificent. They had kept their mercies private, to the exclusion of the other beneficiaries.
Some time after their deaths Nate received a letter in the mail informing him that his biological father had passed away while spending time in prison for armed robbery. The date for the funeral was set, although in the end, no one showed up for the service, so Nate and the preacher buried his father together, in a modest grave set on a hillside in the country.
To this day, Nate has heard nothing about his mother.

TM by Tanya Smith

It was evening by the time the small group of friends completed the campsite. Thankfully the rest of the afternoon had passed without a single dramatic incident, and they now sat broiling their food over the fire, chatting away about movies and art. While initially aloof, Cass had eventually warmed up to Ana, although Ana could tell the girl still harbored resentment for Jules’ and her indiscretion. Nevertheless, the two had attained an acceptable level of cordial tolerance, which was quite impressive given that Cass despised Ana’s very existence less than six hours ago.
In contrast, Nate and Jules were practically married to each other. Jules had brought his swords and bow along, offering Nate a brief introductory course in both before the sky grew completely dark. At first Nate had shunned the idea because he thought it was absurd and childish, but he later accepted at Jules’ urging. His resistance quickly faded, though, the first time he shot the bow. It was love at first sight and Ana knew immediately that within a week he would be hauling her to archery lessons. She was all too aware of the fact that when Nate fell in love with something, he fell all the way in love with it. Moderation was a foreign concept to him, and that’s why when, at the age of nineteen, he tried heroin he became instantly addicted.
His addiction hadn’t lasted long, but it had been severe. His taste for the drug had quickly given way to an appreciation for the fine, white powder, and before long he was a master chemist, mixing various substances together for their desired effects. From what he said, Ana gathered he had overdosed several times before hitting bottom in an ambulance en route to the hospital. It was this experience, however, that had provided the impetus for him to get clean. He told Ana he had died then, and during the period between his death and his subsequent resuscitation in the emergency room he had a vision of his parents, the Graces. They were standing in the sky, their faces contorted in grief, as a bright, white, light beamed down from behind them. Because of his dream, Nate said, when the emergency workers finally revived him he swore he would never use drugs again.
And he never did.
“Hello in there, hello?”
Ana looked up from her trance to find Jules struggling to get her attention.
“Are you daydreaming about me again?” he asked, winking at her.
At this, Nate smiled and shook his head in bewilderment at Jules’ audacity.
“Cause I know you think I’m sexy,” he continued, “and you really can’t help it.”
Cass glared hard at both of them.
“Believe it or not, Jules,” Ana answered, “I do not spend every waking moment contemplating your beauty. Revelation: you’re not the only person in my world.”
“Hush!” he chided. “I can’t believe you said that! Ana, you and I definitely need to conversate. Clearly your priorities aren’t in order.”
Ana looked over at Nate, who was now chuckling and shaking his head in wonder, and then at Cass, who by this point closely resembled a Doberman Pincher. Nate could take the joke but Cass wanted to kill Julian.
“I’m sure Cass fantasizes about you all day,” Ana said, hoping to deactivate the bomb, “don’t you Cass?”
The expression on Cass’ face informed Ana her plan had worked, for Jules’ girlfriend broke out in a grateful smile.
“Actually, I dream about Nate.”
Ana suddenly shot up from where she was seated. “I’m sorry?” she asked, wondering if she’d understood Cass’s words correctly.
“I dream about Nate,” Cass repeated, eyeing Ana’s boyfriend with those soulful, blue eyes. Although Ana knew Cass’s appreciation of Nate was purely an act of revenge, she still wanted to strangle her.
“I’m flattered,” he responded, winking at Cass, “that such a pretty girl would think of me.”
Ana now wanted to strangle them both. She looked over at Julian, her companion in the new ordeal, to gauge his response. He looked disturbed but not half as irate as she was, though Ana could tell from his face that he felt sympathetic for her plight.
“Ok, let me explain something to you both,” Jules announced diplomatically. “Ana and I have been flirting for a very long time and so we're covered under the “common-law” principle, but you two have never flirted with each other before. Consequently, you've clearly violated the rules of social decorum and are thus banned from any further coquetry until such time that you have demonstrated sufficiently to me and Ana that you can engage in said ambiguous behavior without doing grievous harm or embarrassment to yourselves, but more importantly, to us."
Cass almost burst out laughing at his diatribe.” So how does it feel, Julian?” she fleered, smug and content that she had successfully incited a response.
“I don’t know, Cass, I don’t feel much of anything right now,” he shot back, and then beamed with pride at his own cleverness.
With an amused smile Nate turned to look at Jules. “You do realize your own hypocrisy, don’t you?"
“Oh pu-lease. It’s only hypocritical if it’s somebody else,” Jules countered with a wink. For the life of her, Ana couldn’t figure out how Nate and Jules got along so well when she and Cass were ready to duke it out in a WWE RAW death match. But maybe it had to do with the fact that she and Cass were women and thus naturally inclined towards protecting their assets, especially when they came in jeans, with all the fiery determination of a lioness guarding her cubs.
Suddenly a crack and a rumble came from behind them. Turning, Ana saw what remained of a lightning strike making its way down the southeastern sky. "I thought you said it wasn't going to rain?"
"Apparently the weatherman lied, again," Jules answered. "I guess we should head for our tents before it starts."
Scampering like cockroaches at dawn, they all disappeared inside their tents to batten down for the night. Nate read part of Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye" before extinguishing the lamp and snuggling up to Ana, his warm body forming a tight cocoon around hers. She adored his naturally protective instinct and was especially glad to have it on an evening when it sounded like all Hell was breaking loose outside.
At about a quarter-to-one in the morning the thunderstorm finally broke, leaving only a light rain to dampen the thoroughly saturated earth. Nate was fast asleep as he usually was whenever it stormed; the rain served as a kind of sedative to him. For a moment Ana laid there studying him, transfixed by the subtle innocence that his face adopted whenever he was pleasantly resting. He looked so beautiful reclined upon the mattress, his long eyelashes twitching from his dreams. She would have kissed him softly if she could have gotten away with it, but was afraid that she’d wake him.
Slowly Ana sat up and unzipped the door to the tent. She had to use the bathroom and if she didn't go soon, Nate and she would be sleeping in a puddle. Making her way into a dense thicket, she relieved myself and was heading back to the tent when to her surprise she saw someone standing under one of the trees.
It was Julian.
He was leaning casually against an immature pine studying her, his curly brown hair hanging in ringlets from all the rain. The storm had also drenched his white t-shirt, which now clung tightly to his chest so that she could see the curvy lines separating his muscles.
She’d never seen Jules look sexier than he did at that moment, underneath that young conifer in the darkness while it rained. He must've known it too, because he approached her, drawing nearer until she could see the water droplets careening down his face to his lips before meeting their destinies on the front of his shirt or jeans.
They never said a word to each another that night, but when his lips touched hers, the wet ground shook beneath her feet as lightning struck all around, setting the woods ablaze with their love.

Yes, I'm shamelessly bouncing this back up to the top so it can "hang out" beside the synopsis thread.

What can I say? I can be unscrupulous at times. (--:

Countess

Thats not nice :(. How does this tie in with the rest of the story that is posted elswere on this site?? I dare say I have read the entire thing out of order and now I'm lost. How does Nate die? How does this tie in to the parts with Jules and Ana together? Does this effect Ana's choice of marrying the cowboy(sorry for the terming, I don't remember what you called him)??

thanks, me

ps) I really like your writing style :-)

“Nate! Nate! Wake-up! We have to get out of here!”
The storm that had abated in the night during Ana and Jules’ excursion into the woods now threatened to topple trees on their tent. According to the weather report on the radio, a hurricane had turned suddenly in the Atlantic, making landfall to the east of Fayetteville before rapidly moving W/NW towards the mountains. It hadn’t reached them yet, but they were directly in its path.
Jules and Cass had already risen and were expeditiously hurling equipment in their truck, which now closely resembled a construction worker’s vehicle. Nate and Ana, however, hadn’t even begun to pack.
Exiting the tent, Ana suddenly heard a sharp crack, followed by crunching glass. A narrow pine, unable to sustain the strong gusts of wind, had broken off five feet from the base and fallen directly on Jules’ truck. The roof had collapsed under the blow, smashing both the front and back windshields and making it impossible to drive. Jules simultaneously looked shocked and horrified. While the majority of his belongings had been spared, the truck itself was a wreck and would have to be abandoned.
Just then Ana heard Nate approach from behind. Apparently he had heard the tree fall and burst out of bed to see if his mechanical love machine had been damaged.
“Grab your crap and throw it in the Hummer.” he ordered Jules.
Jules looked offended. “I told you once, I’m not riding in a Hummer.”
“For God's sake, man, get off your political high-horse," Nate snapped, "and put your **** in my truck before we're all killed!”
Crossing his arms petulantly, Jules scowled like a belligerent child. “I am not riding in that evil, wicked, gas-guzzler of yours, Nate, ever! Not today, not tomorrow, never, capiche?”
“Fine! Don’t get your stuff, but I’m going to punch your lights out and put you in the truck if you don’t get in! Which way do you want it, Jules!?”
Ana could tell Nate was really pissed – but then there was a hurricane coming and his “Diesel Chick” was in imminent danger. Yes, Nate had named his truck, something she found very strange but then Nate was so wonderful in other ways she could hardly complain.
Apparently his threat to do bodily harm to Jules worked, because Jules stared angrily at Nate for a moment before returning to his truck to retrieve his and Cass’ belongings. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough room in the trunk to accommodate everything so they all agreed to leave some of the camping equipment behind for the hurricane to pilfer through at its leisure.
No one said a word all the way down the mountain, save Jules who kept muttering something about diabolical motorized transportation to himself while Nate was figuring out an alternate route for them to take. A rockslide had blocked the main exit, so that they were forced to backtrack some before venturing down another path. By the time they hit the hard surface road, they had no idea where we were.

***

It wasn’t long before Ana figured out why Nate kept smiling at himself in the rearview mirror, and it wasn’t because he was checking his teeth for leftovers. Cass was flirting with him, winking and making eyes in his direction every time he checked for cars. Ana knew because she caught Cass out of her peripheral while she pretended to look for something in the back seat. Cass had a lot of nerve flirting with her boyfriend in front of her face on the sly like that, but, she couldn’t say a word. She kept thinking about the night before and feeling extremely guilty for Jules and her misbehavior. Nevertheless, she reached behind her seat and squeezed Jules' leg affectionately, all the while ensuring Cass was paying proper attention to her gesture. When Cass turned away in disgust, Ana felt satisfied that she'd seen her, but Julian must've been oblivious to their subtext because he practically crawled over the seat to return the favor.
That must've really pissed Cass off because then she leaned forward and hugged Nate out of spite.
The rest of the trip was that way, with Ana and Cass trying to outdo and irritate each other. For his part, Nate seemed extremely flattered by all the attention while Jules - no stranger to being the central focus - played back as if it were a game.
By late afternoon Ana recognized the mountainous peaks of West Virginia outside the car window, and quickly ascertained that they were lost. They had driven now for hours with nary a single sighting of human existence, so when they arrived at the small grease and grill joint whose only sign read "food", they immediately pulled in to eat.
The restaurant was standard for such a place, with poorly sanitized plastic for tables and chairs. They all ordered pancakes from the menu, although what the waitress brought them did not resemble any kind of pancake they’d ever seen before. The heap of mush should have been called "scrambled flapjacks", but they were so hungry they would've eaten snakes so long as they had been cooked.
Before long Ana noticed they’d drawn the interest of several of the restaurant's customers, who she observed shared an appreciation for badly stained cotton flannel shirts. These were dirty, filthy men - men who hadn't showered or shaved in weeks and who had certainly never visited an orthodontist. The creatures from God-knows-where were staring hard at Nate and Julian, who were properly bathed and clothed and who had clearly visited a dentist within the past decade. They didn't even seem to notice her or Cass sitting by their sides.
Jules and Nate were too busy talking and Cass was too occupied with trying to play footsie with Nate to notice the danger, so Ana quietly suggested that they should all leave to prevent a possible situation. Nate and Cass immediately recognized what was going on, although Nate had to tell Julian to be quiet when he complained about his unfinished food.
After paying the bill, Nate headed out the door to meet the rest in the parking lot and that's when it happened.
From what the men said, she gathered that they thought she and her friends were gay, and because she and her friends were gay, the men thought that they should die.
Although Ana did not understand exactly what went down that Autumn night – for to her it all seemed like a foggy mix of jumbled snapshots in time that, when put together, didn't make a great deal of sense - she had comprehended specific moments. In retrospect, she remembered Nate lying on the ground and Jules driving off with Cass and then Jules coming back. She also remembered her own screams and a man on top of her, and then another, although she did not recall their total number.
During the ordeal she had stared up at the evening sky, which then was painted bright red from the setting sun, and had thought how it reminded her of a crimson tide. She had studied its every detail, observing the subtle nuances in color and their transition across the great expanse. The sun itself was dyed a sanguine shade, something Ana had never seen before, and it astonished her to the point that she shut her eyes and tried to recollect the image in her mind.
When she finally awoke from her “dream,” she had discovered that she was coated in blood from her hair to her feet. She had tried to scream, but nothing came out. Staring down, she had noticed that she held a sword in her hand; it was stained with bright red paint like the sanguine sky. Then she had looked at Jules, who was standing within arm's reach, and he was covered in it too. And behind him was Nate, pale as the Harvest Moon, with an expression of horror upon his face.

***

At the time the whole situation felt chimerical, like they were performing a scene in a perversely twisted Stephen King novel, at least until Jules doubled over as if he were in pain. "Oh ****! Oh ****! Oh ****! Oh…"
"Are you hurt? Jules, are you hurt?" someone asked. It was Nate.
Jules looked up and Ana could see in his eyes a mix of apprehension and fear. "No."
"Then give me the sword. Come on - - give it to me now," Nate ordered, cautiously approaching Jules to retrieve the sword from his hand.
"Ana, you too."
Without thinking, she handed Nate her sword.
"Alright, where's the truck Jules?"
By now Jules was breathing hard, as if he had just run a marathon. "Down the road - it's just over that hill," he gasped.
"Ok. Let's go."
Suddenly Nate took off running towards the vehicle so Jules and Ana followed him. When they arrived at the Hummer, they found Cass inside, pallid as a ghost. She was shivering and sweating at the same time, something Ana found very strange, but she wasn't about to ask Cass what was wrong.
Reaching behind the back seat, Nate pulled out a garbage bag and thrust the swords inside.
"Alright, let's roll," he ordered.
They all got in the car and Nate hauled *** down the road. None of them knew where they were going, but none of them cared so long as it was away from the restaurant. As they drove Jules continued to curse, saying "Oh ****," repeatedly so that the rhythm of his words took on a musical sound. Ana started to tap her hand and hum along to the tune until Jules abruptly stopped to gawk at her. His determined stare eventually made Ana nervous to the point where she asked him to quit.
"She's not herself," Nate commented, looking at both Jules and Ana in the rearview mirror.
You can say that again," muttered Jules.
"She's not herself."
Jules looked at Nate in the mirror and smiled gratefully.
"So, Cass," Nate remarked, staring at the phantasm formerly known as Cass, "you've been flirting with me this whole time and I don't even know your age. Can you tell me how old you are?"
Cass shivered and sweated, but didn't say a word.
"You know, I'd really like to know your age so I can tell my friends about the beautiful girl who flirted with me."
Cass slowly looked over at Nate. "21."
"You're 21? Wow. I'm very flattered. Do you know how old I am?"
"No," she uttered weakly.
"I'm 33. That's old as Hell, isn't it?"
At this Cass giggled the color slowly returning to her face.
"It's not that old," she replied.
"If I sired you when I was 13, I could be your father."
"That's disgusting," Ana commented, and it was. The thought of Nate being Cass' father made her want to hurl chunks. But as much as it revolted her, it didn't make her jealous, although she thought that it should. She tried to muster the emotion in herself but alas, it was futile. She was dead inside, like a zombie.
"Ana's right: you guys are gross," mused Jules, and Ana could tell he wasn't jealous either.
Nate's face abruptly turned serious. "We're going to be stopping shortly. I want you guys to stay in the car while I take care of some business. Cass," he uttered softly, "you were never here. No one saw you. When you get home, I want you to call a friend a go visit for awhile. You need an alibi."
Cass nodded at his words.
"Ana, Jules…don't worry. I'm going to take care of this, alright?"
In fact, there was no basis for Nate's assertion but Jules and Ana shook their heads eagerly in agreement, perhaps because they needed to believe it was true in order to survive.

***

Ana realized only after Nate had stopped that the "business" he was referring to earlier had nothing to do with urination. He was getting rid of the swords. She and Jules watched as he disappeared into the woods with the garbage bag, then reappeared some time later empty handed. Neither of them knew what Nate did with the evidence, but it was never found. To this day it's still lost in the mountains of West Virginia.
For the rest of the trip they drove in silence, stopping only for enough gas to make it home. Nate dropped Cass off at her place like he said he would, then drove Jules and Ana to her apartment. Once inside he had she and Jules strip and take showers, and when Ana came out she found Nate behind the complex, burning the remnants of their soiled clothes, except for her underwear. He placed those in a bag.
Unbeknownst to her back then, Nate and Jules had agreed it would be in her best interest to go to the emergency room to be examined after the rape. Of course, when they pulled into the hospital parking lot she figured it out and immediately started screaming at them. The way she saw it, there had been no rape - just a bunch of out of control people behaving badly. Nate and Jules disagreed with her though, and in the end, they grabbed hold of her arms from both sides and drug her kicking and screaming into the emergency room.
She hated it the entire time she was there. All these doctors and nurses poked and prodded she body with strange instruments till she almost wished she was dead. When it was all over, Ana felt utterly embarrassed and humiliated.
As she put on her clothes she could overhear Nate and Jules conversing with the doctor outside the room. Apparently, she had been attacked in the parking lot of her apartment complex. The criminals had fled upon seeing Nate and Jules, except for one, who Nate had caught before he could escape. They had fought bitterly before the rapist finally punched Nate in the face and made his getaway, and that is why Nate had a black eye and split lip.
When the doctor questioned her about the incident, Ana told him there had been no rape - that it was all a mistake. When he looked at her with sad, blue eyes, Ana could tell he didn't believe the story. Afterwards the doctor had recommended a therapist to Nate and Jules, and then he released her into their custody.

***

CHAPTER IX

Everything changed between them all after that night. Cass informed Jules that they were finished; Nate retreated into his studio to begin work on his next album and Jules – Jules immersed himself in his social life to the exclusion of Ana. He stopped calling her, never returned her calls, and by-passed her on campus. If their meeting was imminent, he’d spit out a cursory, polite “hello”, then rush past, never giving her an opportunity to respond. She felt like she was in Hell and Jules was her tormenter.
Jules didn’t torture just Ana, however; he also punished himself. Leaving sobriety in his wake, Jules inundated his body with every illicit drug he could acquire until there wasn’t a moment when he wasn’t high. Ana watched on in horror as her friend, once lithe but toned, rapidly transformed into a living, breathing skeleton. Miraculously, his new hobby didn’t affect his face; he was still preternaturally beautiful, but the soul in his eyes had long disappeared.
Although Ana was aware that her attempts to restore the relationship were vain, she masochistically sought after him anyway, for she was in love with him and therefore compelled within to reach him. It had taken rape and murder for her to admit it to herself, but now that she had come to terms with her feelings, she was powerless over them and could not free herself from their imperative.
Hoping just for a glance at Jules, she attended all their usual social functions but she often received more than she bargained for there. Unable or unwilling to negotiate a new relationship with a woman, he had thrown himself back into male society. She’d observe him nightly with a different guy, sometimes two, and she’d have to turn away in pain. Jules never stayed with any man for any length of time; after a night, a week, or at the most a month, he’d transition to someone new. Still, that pattern coupled with his drug usage tore Ana apart inside till she thought she would die.
Thankfully, Nate hadn’t left her behind. Like a lighthouse that shines brightest in the storm, he was a fixed constant, a beacon of hope in an irreparable situation. He called her every day to see how she was doing despite the fact that the trauma they’d suffered often left them speechless over the phone. But that really didn’t matter much as far as she was concerned, for it was his presence on the other end of the line that was her comforter.
Surprisingly, Nate called Jules as well. Although Jules did his best to sound positive over the phone, Nate told Ana he could tell he was severely depressed. Sometimes Jules was pixilated, and then he’d confess his true thoughts and feelings, although Nate never gave her specifics regarding those conversations out of respect for Jules’ privacy.
Nate, Jules and Ana struggled on like that for months until their crime finally caught up with them one night. Nate was recording a new song he’d written in his studio when the police knocked down the door and hauled him off in hand-cuffs; Ana was apprehended in front of her classmates after her English Composition course was over. As for Jules, he initially could not be located, but the cops finally found him in his dealer’s house after a two week search. He was lying on the couch dressed in black pantaloons, an open but grimy white button-town, and a black sash that was tied around his head. Apparently he’d been there for days, strung out on junk and unwilling to leave. Neighbors said the dealer seemed grateful when the police arrived to arrest him.
When they drug him into lock-up, it upset Ana so much she became hysterical and a doctor had to come and give her a sedative. Jules was emaciated and filthy, like a cadaver that had been dug up after lying months beneath the earth. What eyeliner he had on had long since relocated to the spot below his lower lashes, and what appeared to be remnants of lipstick had smudged towards his chin and cheek. Semi-conscious and barely able to speak, Jules’ words were so slurred they were unintelligible. For a moment, Ana was really grateful that the police had caught them, for whether they knew it or not, they had saved Jules’ friend’s life.
What happened next, though, was stranger than fiction.
The only truly innocent person in this crucible, Nate, insisted he was guilty. Both Jules and Ana urged him to reconsider his decision to plead with them, but he stubbornly resisted their appeals. In frustration they went to the police, petitioning them for Nate’s release, but with his word against theirs, the police refused to set him free.
Furthermore, despite his refusal to see Ana, Jules paid for Nate and her legal representation. Apparently his nervous breakdown had not impeded his sense of generosity. Ana was unaware of his munificence until one day a woman walked into her cell, introducing herself as Mrs. Weston and informing her she’d been hired on behalf of Julian Vercini to represent her in the case. She was charged with six counts of second degree murder – they all were. Together, the three were looking at a lifetime in prison without parole.
Initially Nate, Jules and Ana all pled not guilty by reason of self-defense. Their lawyers argued, convincingly so, that the mountain men had initiated the dispute and thus they were justified in protecting themselves from any harm. After their defense had presented its case, everyone felt relatively certain the jury would be sympathetic to their plight and come back with an acquittal. However, that delusion was soon replaced with fear and trembling as the prosecution began to make its argument.
The prosecution contested their self-defense claim, pointing to forensic reports that indicated several of the men had been wounded in the back. The state attorney attested that such wounds were consistent with injuries a person might receive if they were fleeing their attacker. To make matters worse, one of the men apparently had been knifed twenty two times, a fact, they argued, that pointed to revenge, not defense, as its primary motivation.
As the trial wore on the three of them began to realize they had very little chance of escaping a guilty verdict. Their lawyers could not rationalize the stab wounds from behind or the overkill of one of the men, and it was becoming increasingly clear that they had exceeded the reasonable limits of the self-defense statute.
Jules and Ana resigned themselves to their fate, and began planning a survival strategy for life in prison, but Nate had other ideas. He told his friends not to lose hope, that sometimes – at the very last moment – when life seemed bleakest, someone would come along and rescue the day. Ana and Jules had thought Nate was referring to the Graces when he said that so they left it alone. Little did they know at the time that Nate was referring to himself.

On the last day of the trial, the state attorney re-called Nate to the stand. The prosecutor had realized long ago that Nate was innocent of the charge, but he wouldn’t recant the indictment in hopes of coercing him into testifying against his friends. Nate utterly refused to succumb to his pressure, however, and today was no different. In a final effort to ensure a guilty verdict, the prosecutor resumed his previous line of questioning, but this time Nate did more than just stand his ground. He overcame.
Rising from his seat, the state attorney grabbed some paper off his desk and walked towards Nate, handing it to him as he sat in the witness box.
“Mr. Grace, can you please read line 17 on that sheet of paper for us?” he asked smugly.
Nate studied the paper a minute before he spoke. “It says ‘three,’” ha answered at last.
“Can you tell us the heading of that column please?”
Glaring hard at the lawyer, Nate replied, “Specimens.”
“Semen specimens, isn’t that right?”
Nate hesitated, then said “Yes.”
“Now Mr. Grace, can you tell us how many men raped your girlfriend?”
Nate looked down at Ana compassionately, as if he were reliving the event.
“I don’t know.”
“We’ve already established in this courtroom that there were three semen samples, so three men must have raped her. Isn’t that right?”
“I guess.”
“There’s only one problem with that theory Mr. Grace. The semen samples only matched two of the men we found lying dead in that parking lot.”
At this revelation, the courtroom fell utterly silent.
“Doesn’t that seem odd to you, Mr. Grace, that only two semen samples matched the attackers when there were three taken from your girlfriend’s body?”
Nate stared apathetically at the prosecutor, unmoved by his grandstanding.
“Can you tell us, Mr. Grace, if you had sex with your girlfriend the night before the killings?”
“Objection! Mr. Grace’s sex life is not relevant to this case.”
“The identity of the third man is very relevant, your honor. Mr. Grace deserves to know exactly who raped his girlfriend.”
“Overruled. You may continue.”
“Now Mr. Grace. Did you or did you not have intercourse with your girlfriend the night that preceded the murders?”
“No, I did not,” Nate scowled, infuriated by the prosecutor’s intrusive questions.
“Well, if that isn’t your semen, whose is it?” inquired the state attorney as if he hadn’t the foggiest idea in the world.
That was the last straw for Nate. “I don’t know!” he yelled, shocking everyone in the courtroom.
“Well I know,” mused the prosecutor. “I know who it is. You see, when it didn’t match any of the dead men, I ran some other tests. That semen is none other than Julian Vercini’s. He’s your friend, I believe, isn’t he?”
Nate looked down at Jules and Ana with an expression that seemed to be a mix of pain and despair.
“Now, Mr. Grace. Can you tell me again how you killed those men?”
For a moment Nate sat silently on the stand, gazing contemplatively at Ana and Jules, whose mutual humiliation prevented them from doing the same. Finally, he said “I did it...I killed them, I killed all of them.”
Incensed by his friend’s irrational martyrdom, Jules abruptly stood up and the two locked eyes with one another. “He didn’t do it; I did it, your honor. Don’t believe him; it was me.”
“Jules, you fool! What are you doing?”
“No, Nate, the question is, what are you doing? Why are you here? You’ve been innocent from the start and yet you insist on standing with us at trial. What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?”
Glaring down at Jules, Nate’s eyes flashed. “Why do you insist on taking ownership of this crime? Don’t you know what they will do to you in prison, Jules? They will make you the female of the cell block. Wherever you go you’ll be hunted like prey, and like prey you will never have a moment’s peace from the predators. And afterwards, after they’ve used you all up and torn you apart inside till you can’t do them any good, they’ll kill you and leave you lying on the bathroom floor. Is that what you want, Jules? Is that what you want for yourself?”
Nate’s eyes quickly shifted to the jury, as he continued his speech:
“Members of the jury, don’t sentence him to death for a murder he didn’t commit. Don’t send him to die like that inside those walls. Send me...I killed them all...send me instead.”
In response to his plea for leniency, the jury granted Nate his wish, eventually convicting him on six counts of second degree murder and declaring Ana and Jules ‘not guilty’.
For a few months after his conviction Jules and Ana visited Nate twice a week at the Virginia State Correctional Facility, but unfortunately the predators Nate referenced in his grandiloquent appeal eventually caught up with him. A janitor found him dead on the bathroom floor one day, stabbed to death with a shard of glass.
The guards say he was murdered because he refused to align himself with a gang. As a loner, he was easy pickings for anyone who felt slighted by his unwillingness to join them.
The killers were eventually caught and tried for their crime. In an interview concerning the event, one of them said Nate did not put up a fight. When they approached him in the bathroom, the criminal stated, he simply gazed at them mournfully, then relinquished himself over to their will. He never said a word or cried out the entire time, to the point that several of them swore he wasn’t human, and declared that they would never attack another one again.
After Nate’s death Jules completely disappeared off the face of the earth. Someone said they thought he’d moved to California, and another claimed he’d joined the circus. Ana checked the obituaries to make sure he hadn’t died without telling anyone – knowing Jules, he’d have to make an announcement about it. When nothing appeared for several weeks, she felt assured that he was still alive.
Little did she know it would be another 10 years before she would ever see him again.

***

You GUYS ROCK!

I just came back for a visit and - wow! - one freaking thousand hits! I'm so in awe that people want to read this story. I'm just in awe in general, I think.

Wow. Thanks to all of you who bothered. I just can't tell you how much I appreciate it.

Tanya

hey Countess, i've been interested in Jules' story ever since i read a bit of it somewhere on here...
I'll save these chapters on USB and read them at home when I've got time...
wow, you've got 21 chapters? when are you going to finish it? will you publish it or post all of it on here?

I'm working with a screenplay writer, and have written the first draft of the book's screenplay. The general structure (his idea) is brilliant but some problems have to be resolved. Once it's in good shape I'm going to try to sell it, and use that a means to not sacrifice artistic integrity when it comes to the book.

The short of it is I may end up posting the rest of it here, but not now as my goal is to have the screenplay sold and made into a movie, and the movie produced so editors/agents will be hungry enough that they'll let me dictate the details of the book.

I don't want some moron changing the book, deleting my favorite words and turning it into pop fiction (vomit).

HOpefully that answers your question on some level. If you want I can send the rest to you privately, however.

Thanks for reading, Tanya