Joe (30 page)

Elliott released a single chuckle. “And I suppose you are going to blame that on your father as well.”

“Why would I . . .” Hal stopped. “His eyes grew wide. Oh my God.”

“What?”

“He said it’s writing itself. Thank you Elliott.”

“Captain?”

Hal walked by him to the door. “I’ll meet you later, take a nap. I forgot something in the truck. Something I now have to look at.”

Hal walked out.

Elliott’s shoulder’s dropped. “Great I made it worse.”

****

Hal didn’t think twice about it and actually felt guilty about leaving Frank’s manuscript in the truck. But he was glad he took it.

He didn’t think much about Frank’s comment when he said it. All writers, Hal included have said those same words over and over.

“The book writes itself.”

But it was Frank. Frank wrote ‘Frank’s Day Out’.

Now he was writing screenplays and novels.

Maybe he was struck with an amazing ability. But just something so innocent about the conversation Hal had with his brother and in recanting it in his mind, it seemed more and more possible that Frank was being the ‘literal’ guy he claimed to be. Literal about the book writing itself.

A part of it made Hal chuckle.

What if Joe was finishing everything Frank started? He was being a ghost writer.

It was not only possibly, but probable.

And if his father was indeed ghost writing, would his father stay in Frank style? Or would he write it himself.

An immediate flashback of high school came to Hal when Frank was doing something for his father and his father had to finish Frank’s essay. Joe followed Frank’s writing style, bettering it some, but tried as best as he could to stay in the same mindset.

It was twisted, demented and funny, and that memory prompted Hal to open the envelope.

There was only one way to make a determination and that was read it.

Of course the number of typed pages told Hal a lot.

He looked at the title page.

“Huh?”

Hal cocked an eyebrow, placed on his glasses, poured a drink, sipped and readied himself to read Frank’s manuscript entitled, ‘I am Frank.’

Ellen gasped in a ‘Take my breath’ away manner, sighing out, and laying the last page on the bed.

“Frank.” She stood up, hand on her chest.

“You liked it?”

“Oh my God. It was awesome.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes. Yes. I want more.”

“There are no more pages El.”

“There’s more to the story, right?”

Frank shrugged.

Ellen waved out her hand. “Of course not, you just want to leave us your readers in a cliff hanger.”

“I guess. I don’t know. It writes itself.”

“Well, I can tell. Your writing voice is so you and … wow.”

Frank smiled. “Glad you liked it.”

“Frank. It’s unbelievable. What a concept for the story.”

“Yeah, it just came to me.” He snapped his finger. “Then it just wrote itself. I mean, I interjected here and there . . .”

“I know what you mean.”

“Better than Frank’s Day Out?”

“Well, that story had its merit, and it was all ages. But this... you are gonna show you are not a one hit wonder with your first book. You are the apocalypse Stephen King.”

Frank grinned wide.

“Why didn’t you tell me about you writing?”

“I didn’t want you to get mad that I was spending time in the office writing.”

“I would have understood. I would have asked for pages to read as you were writing it.”

“That’s fast reading.”

“I just want to read it again.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t like it, especially since Hal asked if I was using a spell check.”

“You aren’t?” Ellen asked.

“No.”

“Then it’s even more amazing. Frank, today that new game show starts, and you’re gonna win.”

“Fuckin right.”

“And after everyone reads this book, there will be no doubt, you are Beginnings Most Smartest Hero.”

He did his typical, one side of his mouth smile, then leaned into Ellen with an, “I am”, pulling her close and kissing her. After he stepped back an inch and tilted his head. “Wonder what Hal thinks.”

****

“Oh My God.” Hal leaned back in his desk, hand over mouth, pages of Frank’s book before him.

A knock caused him to raise his views. “Yes.”

“Captain,” Elliott walked in. “Guess what I did.”

“What is that?”

“I slept last night. You never called.”

“I was reading Elliott. First I read Frank’s book, then his script, then I read his book again.”

“That good?” Elliot asked.

“No, that Frank.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s twisted. It’s demented. It sounds like my brother talking. It’s typical of his unoriginality and ability to make it his own. It’s a huge plagiarism parody rip off of a legendary novel.”

“So then you don’t think your father wrote it?”

“I didn’t say that.” Hal waved a finger.

“But you just said it sounded like Frank talking, it’s typical Frank.”

Hal nodded, and collected the manuscript. “Yes, it is. It’s also at least 40,000 words long, and I also know my brother’s vocabulary consists of, ‘Oh yeah’, ‘Absolutely’, ‘I am’, and ‘Fuck’. There’s no way my brother knows 40,000 words.” He handed Elliott the manuscript. “Since you’re well rested. Read. Take a few hours and read it.”

“I . . . I actually would like to.” Elliott glanced at the title page. “I am Frank?”

Hal gave an assured nod. “Exactly.”

“Is it just like . . .?”

“In a twisted way.”

“So it’s a parody.”

“Exactly.”

Elliott looked down at the pages again. “Oh my God.”

Hal grinned arrogantly. “Exactly.”

****

Dean truly thought the rules and regulations to ‘Beginnings Most Smartest Hero’ would be far more interesting to read, than Frank’s new book. But because he didn’t want to get too trampled on by Frank questions, he decided to take a few hours to read it. After all it was only 150 pages.

He chuckled every time he thought of it.

Ellen’s enthusiastic, “Dean,” caught his attention in the lab, as his hand rested on the thick document.

“What’s up, El.”

“Frank wrote a book.” She gushed.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean lifted it.

“What? He gave you a copy, too.”

“He said he made four copies. Gave one to you, me, Hal, and Jenny Matoose.”

Ellen crossed her arms. “That sucks.”

“What does?”

“I thought I was special.”

Dean smiled. “You are. But, you know, Frank, he’s covering his bases.”

“Ok. I won’t feel too dejected. Oh my God, can you believe he’s a writer now. Wow.”

Dean chuckled. “He’s entertaining El.”

“So you read it?”

“Yep.”

“It’s brilliant.”

Dean laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. Brilliant? El, come on, it’s just Frank. Although I can’t believe he is writing novels now.”

“Me either. I am so proud.”

“Um, yeah, me too.” Dean scratched his head.

“You’re not mad at him, are you?”

“For what? The way he portrayed me? Nah. I’m fine with it. He’s Frank.”

“I am.” Frank’s voice entered the lab.

Dean tossed out his hand. “Hence the name of his book.”

Ellen grinning spun around. “Dean and I were talking about your novel.” She walked up to him. “I have to get to work. Again, I’m proud of you.” Tip toeing, she kissed him.

“I’ll be over in a bit,” Frank said.

“Ok, love you Mr. Author.”

Unseen to Ellen or Frank, Dean rolled his eyes as he replaced the manuscript back in the envelope.

“So you liked it?” Frank asked.

“What made you write this book?”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I found it entertaining,” Dean said. “I was just wondering what made you start writing it.”

Frank shrugged. “Hey,” He snapped his finger. “Did you read it all the way through?”

“Yeah, this morning while I was waiting on results.”

“Whoa. So you did that read it all in one sitting thing? I never did that. It must have been good. Everyone said that read Frank’s Day Out in one sitting.”

“It was twelve pages.”

“Still.”

“Still?” Dean shook his head. “Anyhow, I liked it.”

“So it’s done?”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, yes and no. It’s been writing itself, so when I stopped writing and think I got to the end I wasn’t sure if I should write more. El says it needs more.”

“No. You just left the readers wondering.”

“What readers?”

“The ones that read your book.”

“So you, El, Hal and Jenny were wondering? About what?”

“Never mind, Frank. It’s fine.”

“Excellent.”

Dean handed the manuscript back to Frank. “Thanks for letting me read this.”

“You’re smart, I wanted only smart people to read it. So you think it’ll be another best seller?”

“Frank, see, before you go . . .”

“Yes!” Jenny blasted into the room, torn tissue in hand. “Oh my God, yes.” She rushed to Frank. “I can’t stop crying. It has me so emotional.”

Dean snickered. “I can see why.”

“Frank, your dialogue is so realistic and captivating. It’s a masterpiece.”

“Uh, Jenny.” Dean smiled. “A masterpiece. Please.”

Frank turned to Dean. “You said you liked it.”

“Yeah, because it was entertaining. A masterpiece? Frank.”

“What?”

“You wrote it. Think about it.”

Frank did.

“Frank, don’t listen to him,” Jenny said. “He’s just jealous that he can’t create something so beautiful, stunning, and thrilling.”

“Yeah, he’s jealous.”

“I am not jealous Frank,” Dean defended.

“Are too. You’re jealous because I’m smart.”

“I’m smart.”

“Not as smart as me in the creating field. The only thing you can create are viruses and cures. Does that take brains?”

“Um, yeah.” Dean fluttered his lips.

“Yeah, right.” Frank said. “Mother nature creates those.”

“You know what? You are absolutely right. It doesn’t take brains or intelligence to make viruses and cures. It takes brains and intelligence to write a masterpiece novel.” Dean argued. “But that book Frank, is not a masterpiece.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“You and who else?”

Dean growled. “Me and anyone else who isn’t Beginnings challenged.”

Jenny gasped. “You are so rude.”

“Jenny, you are very smart, but you are blinded by the Beginnings cloud that makes everyone illogical and strange.”

“There’s no such thing.” Frank said. “I haven’t seen it.”

“You can’t see it, Frank,” Dean argued. “It’s invisible. It makes people odd. Love strange things, live in some sort of twisted world. Makes them walk on a path in a twelve foot area as if it’s some sort of long trail. Ask your father, he’ll tell you about it.”

“My father’s dead.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. I forgot. Sorry.”

“That’s ok, I keep forgetting too ever since Bob is possessed by him. I’ll ask Bob.”

“You do that.” Dean said. “In the meantime, give it to anyone. Anyone and they’ll tell you the truth. ‘I am Frank’ is not a masterpiece.”

Danny Hoi’s voice entered the lab. “He’s right Frank.”

Dean pointed to him. “There see, even though he’s the third person to walk right in my lab, interject into the conversation without invitation or knocking. He’s right.”

“Man, you can be a dick,” Danny shook his head. “Anyhow, Frank, he’s right. I am Frank is not a masterpiece. It’s . . . it’s much more than that. It’s a legend.”

Jenny grinned. “Like you, Frank. You’re a legend.”

“I am.” Frank nodded.

“Jenny gave me her copy,” Danny said. “Do not let another person have it. I want to edit a few lines here and there that don’t fit. Then we’ll publish it as is and you will be a two time bestselling author.”

“With that, Frank, you’ll be no competition for Beginnings Most Smartest Hero,” Jenny added.

“Oh my God.” Dean said. “Do you people hear yourself? He is not Beginnings Most Smartest Hero. He didn’t write a masterpiece. He’s . . . Frank.”

“I am.”

“Stop that!” Dean shook his head. “I’m leaving.” He murmured all the way out of the lab as he stormed away.

Frank stood staring out toward the door.

“Get used to it Frank,” Danny gave a grip to his arm. “People will get so jealous of your talent they’ll want to bring you down. Ignore it. It’s just jealousy.”

Frank heard those words, and couldn’t agree more.

****

It was a mid-morning stroll, on his way to the training field, and after several calls from Elliott to convey, “Oh my God.”

But Hal had to say the exact same thing when he walked by Ben from Fabrics shop and he was putting up a poster. “Coming soon, a stunning fast paced new novel by Frank Slagel.”

And there was his brother in his Author posing glory right on the poster.

Hal couldn’t help but stare. Frank, arms folded, rifle across his shoulder, looking Frank mean. Which pose was it? The happy one, the mean one, they all looked alike.

‘I am Frank’ sprawled across the poster.

“Good God.”

The squeal of laughter rang in Hal’s ear from behind, and Hal caught Elliott’s reflection in the window.

“Danny works fast.” Elliott pointed.

“Can you believe this?”

“Yes. It’s all part of Beginnings mentality.” Elliott said.

Finally, Hal turned and faced him. “Well, did you read it?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I loved it,” Elliott said with a laugh.

“No, you did not.”

“I did. It was great. Demented. Captain, Frank wrote it.”

“No, Elliott I disagree. My father knows how to write like Frank.”

“I have to disagree.”

“Did you see? The spelling was correct.”

Elliott chuckled. “Still. But…” he paused.

“But what?”

“But there are parts of the book where I can see that you think your dad had a hand.”

“A ha!” Hal pointed. “They stick out.”

“Yes.”

Hal grinned.

“That still doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it does. It means you and I go out to the cemetery tonight.”

Elliott groaned.