The Mayor of Christ Mountain

A novel in progress


October 21, 2015 Foul weather friend

Edmund and his friend Mark stood in line at Lee’s, a local coffee shop, waiting to order. Mark was a programmer with a company in Raleigh.

While they waited, they talked about the Tar Heels performance that season, the drive from Raleigh, the weather.

Edmund smiled at the barista. “Hey Becky, large Colombian please. No cream.”

Mark ordered a mocha, no whip, and paid for both of them.

After they claimed their drinks and sat down at a table on the patio, the real conversation began.

“Look, Ed, you’re a good guy. You’re a great programmer. But, I’ve asked, SynTech is not going to hire you.”

“Okay, ah, what about other companies? You’ve got an ear to the ground. There are at least six I can think of within—“

“No. I’ve talked with several friends. You’re too hot right now. No company around here wants to take that on.”

Edmund sipped from his paper cup of black coffee. He stared at the black grillwork of the table a moment.

“I can probably get you some one-off projects once in a while, but for a regular job… Look, this is all going to blow over. Six months, a year from now, you’ll be right back in the game.”

“Mark,” he growled. “Six months does me no good. I’ve got a mortgage due next month. I’ve got to feed my kids—” He drew a long breath. “—kid. My kid.”

Mark turned and stared through the plate glass into the coffee shop for a long moment. He didn’t turn back to look at Edmund when he spoke.

“Ed, what they did to you was bullshit. And I wish I could help. I’m just another cog in the same machine.”

He drank from his mocha, then stared at the cup in his hand.

“Dammit! You shouldn’t have to hold a funeral for a five year old! And then everything else…” Mark clenched his jaw and blinked several times.

“I’ll keep asking around, but it doesn’t look good at all.”

Edmund only nodded in reply. They sat there for ten more minutes, finishing their coffee in silence, watching the traffic and people walking past.

When they got up to go, they started to shake hands, but then hugged briefly.

“I’ll keep in touch,” said Mark.

“Thanks, man.”

Next chapter



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Regarding this story

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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