Fred & Mary

  Fred & Mary

  Kipjo K. Ewers

  Copyright © 2017 by Kipjo K. Ewers

  THIS IS A EVO UNIVERSE BOOK

  PUBLISHED BY EVO UNIVERSE, LLC

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by EVO Universe, LLC, New Jersey, and distributed by EVO Universe, LLC, New Jersey.

  www.evouniverse.com

  ASIN: B071WV6DQ8

  All rights reserved.

  ALSO BY KIPJO K. EWERS

  The First

  EVO Uprising

  Eye of Ra

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DEDICATION

  This story is dedicated to everyone who just wanted one more day to say goodbye.

  CHAPTER 1

  San Marcos, California

  Fred counted where he was sitting as the many times he was in a very uncomfortable situation. He was so nervous that he not only fidgeted in his chair, Fred caught himself looking at the door thinking someone he knew would barge in catching him in the act.

  He fought to keep himself together as the gentleman in the faded Black Sabbath t-shirt, frayed jeans, and an array of highly detailed tattoos on both his arms and hands continued his presentation. He forced himself to calm down a bit remembering it was the weekend, and that he told no one where he was going, so his secret was safe.

  “So, as you can see, this is how she’s going to look with all the customizations.” The rocker motioned with a smile. “Usual production time takes about three to four weeks, but this is a simple job, and for you, I can get this done in a week and a half.”

  “Thanks,” Fred timorously nodded. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble for me. I can …”

  “Dude it’s not a problem,” the rocker held up his hand. “I’m even waving the shipping cost. My only question is, are you sure you want to go with that face? We can always take a scan of a picture and make a customized head …”

  “No thank you please,” Fred put on a half smile. “For what I need it for, I don’t plan on looking at it much.”

  The rocker respectfully nodded not pressing the issue.

  “Well, then we’re all done, you mentioned paying in advance?”

  “Yes please,” Fred nodded while sitting up in his chair.

  “Not a problem,” he smiled. “Just see our assistant outside, and she will get you squared away.”

  The two rose to their feet as the rocker escorted Fred out of his office into the hallway. Fred turned throwing on the most genuine smile possible while extending a hand.

  “Thank you, Matt.”

  “Hey man, it was an honor and pleasure,” Matt McMullen smiled shaking his hand. “I just hope you enjoy her when she comes.”

  Fred’s smile fell a bit as he nodded. He turned heading to the front of the office from whence he walked in to begin his appointment.

  As Fred made his way back to the reception area, a younger man with spiky blonde hair adorned in a Judas Priest shirt, faded frayed blue jeans, and worn-out Dock Martins passed him in the hallway giving him a friendly nod which Fred respectfully returned. He stopped in front of his boss and gave him a warm pop in the arm. The CEO of the company retaliated with a playful elbow to his chest.

  “What’s his story?” the Judas Priest fan smirked.

  “Poor guy’s wife got killed almost a year ago,” sighed Matt McMullen sadly shaking his head. “Hit by a car right in front of him. The driver was texting and driving, four months after they got married.”

  “Oh damn,” the young man remorsefully lowered his head. “So, he wants …”

  “Yeah …it’s one of those,” nodded Matt. “Let’s make this custom extra special.”

  “Sure, thing man,” a saddened employee agreed.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  San Diego, California

  A week and a half later, Fred stood in the parking lot of his job ready to hop into his ten-year-old blue Nissan Altima to get a jump on the California traffic home. Fortunately for him, his commute was not as horrible as most as it took him a good thirty minutes on a good day.

  As he placed his suitcase down on the floor of the passenger side of the vehicle, he stood up to see a familiar bear sized bruiser with a goatee and well kept blonde fade leaning on the top his driver side door.

  “You know why I’m here.” His nose flared as he narrowed his eyes.

  “I can’t today Barney.” Fred apologetically smirked.

  “Brah, this is Regulators issue number one!” He threw his hands up. “Comickaze is going to be jammed packed today because of this issue!”

  “I know, but I just got a confirmation about this package that got delivered to my house,” Fred glanced down at the ground. “It’s big and valuable, and Ms. Santiago is funny about those kinds of packages blocking the hallway.”

  “What is it?” His best friend curiously asked.

  “It’s one of those interchangeable book shelves,” Fred cleared his lying throat. “I need to do a bit of organization around the house.”

  “So, let me come by and …”

  “I prefer to do this …alone.” Fred locked eyes with him.

  Barney backed up a bit knowing not to press any further.

  “Besides, its Regulators number one,” Fred threw back on a fake smile. “You got to go for the both of us, and get me a copy.”

  “You want the original or alternate cover?” Barney inquired with disappointment laced in his voice.

  “Hook me up with both if you can, and please don’t forget to take copies from the back.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Barney rolled his eyes. “Good luck with your book shelf.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Fred’s drive home was a quiet one as usual. Anxiety set in a bit the closer he got home.

  As he walked to his steps, his heart sank as he forced a plastic smile on his visage. He was hoping to get home before she saw it. Perky old Ms. Santiago with her silver braided hair, 1950 librarian style glasses, and regulation grandma shirt and jeans stood waiting on the steps with a genuine smile on her face.

  “Hello there Fredrick!”

  “Hi Ms. Santiago,” Fred made sure to put some chirp in his voice.

  “You got quite a big package inside.”

  “I’m so sorry; I purposely rushed home to take care of it.”

  “Not to worry my dear,” she waved him off. “How was work?”

  “Long and exhausting,” He walked up the steps. “How’s the garden?”

  “It’s coming along,” she smiled. “That new weed killer you got me actually helped.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he nodded.

  He opened the door allowing Ms. Santiago to walk through first. He needed a bit more time to prepare himself for what was waiting for him inside mentally. As he walked into the foyer area of the four-apartment townhouse, there it stood in a coffin size plain box.

  As promised by the Real Doll Company, none of its labels would be placed on the package so that anyone would know where it came from, or what was inside. Only the CEO’s assistant’s name and a P.O. Box address was printed on the label for return ad
dress purposes.

  “So whatcha got there Fredrick?” Ms. Santiago curiously asked with her hands on her hips.

  Fred knew sweet old Ms. Santiago was also a bit of a nosey body. It wasn’t the first time she was known for peeking at her tenants’ packages. He was usually the second or third person she’d share her investigative gossip with; the first was his wife when she was home.

  “Uh …it’s an adjustable book shelf,” Fred cleared his throat while recycling his fib. “I decided to do some organization upstairs.”

  “It’s pretty big, what company did you buy it from?”

  “It’s a custom piece I got off this site called Esty,” he moistened his throat conjuring up another lie.

  Knowing that Ms. Santiago was an eBay warrior, Fred knew she could tell if the package came from an eBay seller with ease. He was pretty sure Esty.com was a site she never ventured. Nor could she prove if Fred was telling her the truth considering that the independent sellers that sold their custom work also shipped their items out using their personal means and labels. At least that is what he thought Mary had told him when she showed him the site.

  “Etsy,” she nodded. “Need to check that site out. What’s the name of the spelling?”

  “E.T.S.Y dot com,” He answered.

  Fred walked over sizing up the box while analyzing the stairs to determine the best course of action to get it up the three flights to his apartment. He opted to use the push and slide system as he set his bag down.

  The box had some weight to it, but it was still lighter than it looked. The wide corners of the stairwells also made it a bit easier to push it up the wooden steps. Ms. Santiago followed behind him carrying his suitcase, so he did not have to go back for it. She small talked him all the way up to his apartment. Using her spare keys, she opened the door, while he dragged the box in.

  “Thank you, Ms. Santiago,” Fred wiped his brow with his sleeve. “If you don’t mind, I’d going to get cleaned up and settled in.”

  “Of course,” she nodded while placing his bag down.

  Fred caught her giving the apartment a quick scan, and prepared for the concern she wore on her face, and what she was about to ask next.

  “Fred dear, if you want, when you go to work …I can come up and…”

  “I appreciate that Ms. Santiago,” he stopped her. “But I’m quite fine. I just want to get settled in.”

  Like Barney, she did not push any further.

  “Have a good night,” she smiled.

  “Thank you, Ms. Santiago, you too.”

  He politely closed the door as she left, and gave a slight sigh of relief that she was gone. Looking up Fred saw what she saw.

  The apartment wasn’t a disaster area, but it wasn’t a home anymore either. It was cold, functional, and in much need of a wipe-down as films of dust began to form in different places. The mail tray had piled up with magazines, junk mail, bank statements, and paper bills that were already paid.

  Kicking off his shoes in the foyer area, Fred lifted and dragged the box further into the apartment in between the kitchen and dining room. He decided not to wait as he walked into the kitchen grabbing some scissors from one of the drawers, walked back over, and took his time carefully cutting the heavy duty packing tape from the box.

  Within the box was a thickly padded foam casing. Setting the scissors down on the dining room table, Fred grabbed the top cover to the housing pulling it off. He then tossed it to the floor as he got a good look at what was inside.

  It looked as if it was sleeping with its large eyelids closed, or in some form of suspended animation. Fred leaned in using one finger to flick the eyelids up to both test them and give it some kind of life.

  Underneath the simple white t-shirt and tight blue boy shorts he requested for it, it was quite curvy and buxom. He kept its appearance simple with a clear coat polish for the finger and toe nails. He huffed as a part of him began to regret his head choice.

  He wondered if he should have gone with an actual human head as opposed to an anime one. Although it was correctly proportioned, the large brown eyes staring back at him gave him a slight shiver. Gingerly he reached in touching it. Instinctively he recoiled. The all too real feel gave him the willies. Taking a deep breath, he knelt down and touched the side of its face. The shiver came back, but he did not pull away. It's synthetic caramel brown skin felt soft and warm. He was expecting something cold with the feel of rubber.

  Fred then moved from the skin, timidly running his fingers through its long curly hazel brown hair. Similar to her hair, it was the only thing that he requested for the Real Doll Company to duplicate from her pictures. Fred picked up the welcome package folder tucked within the box next to the doll opening it up. He sat there for awhile skimming through the maintenance manual and then the company’s recent sales catalog.

  “Yeah, I don’t see myself making any future purchases,” Fred said to himself as he closed up the folder setting it down on the floor.

  For a couple of minutes, he knelt in silence staring at its lifeless face attempting to compare its resemblance to the many female anime characters he had watched over the years. Bored with it already, he stood up leaving it within the box to begin dinner.

  Fred went about preparing his usual Thursday night meal. Waiting for the Chinese delivery man to show up and eat. For the rest of the evening, he flipped through channels while gorging away on takeout food now and then glancing at the box. Next, he flipped through his tablet answering both personal and work emails while looking at silly animal and Vine videos on YouTube until he felt fatigue setting in.

  With a yawn, he laid his tablet on the table. Fred rose to his feet picking up his empty food containers dumping them in the trash receptacles. The rest he packed in the refrigerator full of other take out items he had purchased either earlier in the week, or last week.

  Turning off the television, he made his way back over to the crate. Once again, he stood there just staring down at it. There was a bit of uncertainty running through him, a part that wanted to close the lid, seal it back up, return it and get his money back.

  Slowly turning into his empty bedroom made up his mind.

  Getting a good footing, he grabbed it by its hands pulling it to its feet. Remembering that it was equivalent to human dead weight, he managed to get it onto his shoulder performing a single shoulder fireman’s carry. He took his time moving it to the bedroom.

  With a groan, he gradually set it down on her side of the bed. The joints were strong yet fluid as he moved it into a proper sitting position. Fred huffed as he realized his work wasn’t done. Lifting it up again slightly, he managed to pull the sheets from underneath it, and then began the task of repositioning it into a proper sleeping position. It was all from memory, from how she laid on her side with her arms, to how her legs were bent and parted, down to how her toes curled. A part of him was impressed with the detailed articulation it possessed.

  Finally getting it in the pose he wanted, he closed its eyes and covered its lower half with the sheets.

  He took his time, as he went about turning off all of the lights in the apartment.

  He removed his clothes down to his boxers, tossing them in the pile he made of other work clothes at the foot of their bed. He then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  Casting the entire apartment into darkness with the extinguishing of the lamp on his nightstand, Fred slid into the sheets next to it. Slowly he gripped it around its waist drawing it closer to him.

  In the silence of the night, it took very little time for his tears to fall. He buried his face into its back to muffle the cries that would soon follow until he finally drifted to sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next morning, Fred groggily awoke to the sound of his phone telling him to get up. He let off an irritated moan as he sat up to shut it off.

  The alarm kept going.

  Fred’s attention was averted from the motivational speaker’s drill sergeant voice telling him
to “Rise and Shine” as he found the hand he was going to use to reach for his phone in a compromising position.

  It was resting in between the bosom of his inanimate bed buddy.

  What had him perplexed wasn’t the fact that his hands were in between its breasts. It was bound to happen eventually. It was that its left hand was in a closed position, holding in his hand.

  What was also odd was the fact that it wasn’t in its original sleeping position he placed it. It was in a fetal position with its back pressed close to him. When did he reposition it during to the night?