Seize The Day

Seize The Day

Randall James loved watching her. He seized every opportunity to do so.
He started with her long copper legs, glistening in the afternoon
sunlight. He slowly shifted his eyes past her washboard stomach to her
breasts, pressed tightly against her swimsuit. After fixating on her
torso for several moments, he turned his gaze toward her elegant neck,
prominent chin, and full luscious lips. Sunglasses masked his
persistent stares. She wore them as well, hiding the aqua blue eyes he
so loved. He took in the whole of her, a living, breathing
goddess.
Many men preached against coveting another man's wife. They had never
laid eyes on Melissa Barron.
"Are you staring at me, Randy? I can feel your eyes all over my
body."
She was a compulsive tease, but he knew full well that it was all just
innocent flirting. It drove him mad.
"What?" Randy mumbled, pretending to have dozed off.
She flashed him a mischievous smile. "Nothing. Sorry I woke you." She
rose from the lounge chair and stretched her arms. "I'm going to see
what David's up to. Get you anything?"
"No I'm fine. Thanks." She would never give him what he really wanted.
There was no sense in unveiling the truth.
He fixated on her hips as she swaggered across the pool deck toward
the French doors that led into the house. An old pick-up line popped
into his mind. He spoke it aloud, under his breath.
"I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave."
Randy was sweating profusely, not so much from the heat as from
Melissa's scantily clad frame. He could feel his heart pounding against
his ribs. He dove into the deep end of the pool, hoping the water would
shock him back into composure. After swimming two laps, he began to
feel like himself again.
Randy had forgotten how titillating it was to be in Melissa Barron's
presence. She was a drug from which he could never come down. No other
woman had ever affected him the way Melissa did. He had dated off and
on for the past fifteen years, mostly to satisfy his libido. Finding
love was not his motivation for dating. He had already found that in
Melissa, and no other woman would ever compare to her. Randy truly
believed that had David Barron not gotten in the way years ago, she
would be with him today.
He leaned against the edge of the pool, closed his eyes, and dreamed of
Melissa, walking down the pool stairs, undressing as she approached
him. Finally reaching him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Pulling herself closer and closer until...
"Randy?" It was her voice, coming from above him. He looked up and
smiled at her. He had slipped into his fantasy world again. A world
where he and Melissa were bonded in passion. A world where she lived
only for him. A world without David Barron.
"Randy, you're going to turn into a prune in there. Come inside and
cool off. I'll make you a margarita."
"If you insist." Randy hoisted himself out of the pool and followed
her inside. Still watching her every move through shaded eyes.

David Barron emerged from his study as they sipped margaritas in the
kitchen. He had already changed out of his swim trunks, wore khaki
shorts and a bright yellow golf shirt. He stared curiously at Randy, as
if looking for something in his face. He grabbed a beer from the fridge
and joined them at the kitchen table. He took a long sip from his
Amstel, set it down, and folded his arms. "You know Randy, if I didn't
know better, I'd say you were following us."
Randy felt a chill. He met David and Melissa at Ohio State, had
actually introduced them to one another at a fraternity party. David
and Melissa married soon after college and moved to Cincinnati. Randy
happened to land a job there as well, and moved there a year later.
They spent many weekend nights together, college friends painting the
town. During that time, Randy's college crush on Melissa grew into an
obsession. He was convinced that she was meant for him, that David was
the only thing preventing them from being united. Two years ago,
Melissa and David moved to Mydland. Randy had told himself that he
would move on with his life, get past his yearning for Melissa, but to
no avail. Months later, he began searching the Mydland job market. It
had taken him nearly two years to land, but it was worth the wait. He
feared David might know why he was here.
"What can I say?" Randy replied, sipping his drink. "Small world,
isn't it?"
David studied Randy's face a moment longer. He grinned and raised his
Amstel. "I'm glad you're here. Welcome to Mydland. Here's to Randy's
new job, and the good times to come."
"Hear, hear," Melissa and Randy said together, and they clinked their
glasses in a toast.
"I'm glad you're here too, Randy," Melissa said. "I'm going to change
and get ready for dinner." She bent down and kissed David on the lips.
Randy's stomach turned. He caught one last glimpse of her as she left
the kitchen. The fifteen years since college had not aged her a bit.
She was magnificent.
"I'd better be going, too," Randy said. "I'm still living out of boxes
in my apartment. Tell Melissa I'll see her soon, and thanks for the
drink." He rose and started for the door. David followed to see him
out.
"We'll have to get together again soon," David said.
"Absolutely." Randy walked down the front porch steps, then turned
back to David. "Say, why don't we go to one of those golf courses
you've been raving about next weekend? I've been working on my game,
you know."
"Yeah, you mentioned that a few times. Sure, I'm game. How's
Saturday?"
"Sounds good to me," Randy replied. "I'll call you later this
week."
Randy James's heart was aflutter as he drove home. He had been working
on his golf game, among other things. Next Saturday would be treat. He
had been looking forward to it for over a year.

David Barron arrived at Randy's apartment at ten A.M., punctual as
usual. He rapped on the door and Randy opened it quickly, greeting him
with a salesman's smile. "Hey, David. Welcome!"
David walked into the apartment. It was a new complex and the
apartment barely looked lived in. It had cathedral ceilings, a large
living area, and an open kitchen. Randy's furniture consisted of a
small oak breakfast table, a loveseat, and a worn coffee table. A small
television resting on an end table and stereo components on crates
comprised a makeshift entertainment center.
"I swear, Randy. You still don't have any more furniture than you did
in college."
"Don't need much for just little old me. Let's get going. Tee time's
in thirty minutes."
They started out the door. Randy turned to David. "Say, could I borrow
your cell? My battery's dead and I haven't gotten my home phone hooked
up yet."
David took it off his belt and handed it to him. Randy dialed a number
and sauntered into his bedroom, as if the call was private. When he was
out of David's sight, he slipped the battery off the back of the phone
and replaced it with a defective one. He tossed David's battery into
his bedroom and went back into the living area.
"Your phone's not working. Think the battery needs charging."
"That's strange. It was working fine last night. Sorry. I can charge
it in the car." He fiddled with the phone, confirmed that it wasn't
working.
"Let's go," Randy said. "We'll miss our tee time."

Melissa hung up the phone in frustration. Randy had called ten minutes
ago to tell David he had a stomach bug and would have to cancel their
golf game. David had already left, and she couldn't reach him on his
cell phone. She gave up after the fifth try.

The rain started as they teed up on the ninth hole. David was up by ten
strokes, so when he suggested that they skip the back nine and call it
a day, Randy happily agreed. For the first half of the trip back to
Randy's apartment, neither of them spoke. They approached a two lane
bridge over Lake Johanna.
"You know, I've been looking at some lakefront property right around
here," Randy said.
"Oh yeah. Where?"
"Turn right up here before the bridge and I'll show you."
David turned the Ford Expedition onto a narrow road he had never even
noticed before. A few moments later, they came to a one-lane bridge.
They were surrounded by heavily wooded, undeveloped land. 'For Sale'
signs lined the narrow street. There were two large homes across the
bridge, set back from the lake. Their lots were thickly wooded as well,
barely allowing them a view of the water.
"Here it is. On the right."
"Wow. This is really out in the sticks", David said, stopping the car.
"You sure you want a place this far from civilization?"
"Why not? It's peaceful, scenic, and not as expensive as most lakefront
lots."
"Whatever turns you on," David replied. The rain started coming down
harder. "You ready to head back home?"
"Let's sit here a minute. I just love the scenery."
David sat back impatiently, not nearly as impressed with the landscape
as Randy was. "OK, just a few minutes. I really should be getting
home."
"You know, Melissa really is a great woman," Randy said.
David glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He had always sensed
that Randy had feelings for his wife. Randy acted as though he was on
stage when she was around. And the looks he gave her. Melissa may find
them flattering, but David found them unsettling. "I know," he said.
"That's why I married her."
"No, I'm serious. I've dated dozens of women over the years. Some of
them were really great, but none even compared to Melissa. She is truly
one of a kind."
David was becoming uneasy with the conversation. "You'll find the
perfect woman one day," he replied. "She'll be as special to you as
Melissa is to me."
"I don't think so," Randy said, reaching into his pocket. "How about I
just take Melissa?"
David was momentarily speechless, frozen by Randy's comment. He
obviously wasn't kidding. Suddenly, Randy reached across the center
console, wrapped his left arm around the back of David's head, and
pulled his face down to the damp cloth in his right hand. David started
swinging, caught Randy in the temple. He flailed for several moments,
unable to free himself from Randy's grasp. Finally, David buckled at
the waist and went limp.
Randy pushed David back against the driver's seat. He turned the wheel
slightly, aiming the Expedition toward the one lane bridge. He got out
of the car and walked a few yards along the side of the road. The rain
became even more intense. The sky was crying for David Barron's
misfortune. After several paces, Randy saw what he was looking for. The
rock was about the size of two bricks. He carried it back to the
Expedition, looking around as he went. Aside from the pouring rain, the
world was still. No sign of anyone. He put the Expedition in drive,
held the rock over the accelerator and took a deep breath. Finally, the
only obstacle between Melissa and him would be removed. He dropped the
rock and quickly backed away from the car. It jerked forward, heading
for the bridge at about thirty miles per hour, by Randy's estimation.
The Expedition rolled onto the bridge, wavering slightly back and
forth. Suddenly, it lurched to the left and broke the rotted wooden
railing easily, tipping over the side of the bridge and nose-diving
into the water with an immense splash. Randy stood at the foot of the
bridge and watched the Expedition fill with water and slowly submerge.
He watched David Barron lowered into his grave.

Melissa Barron was growing more nervous by the minute. David said he
would be home no later than four in the afternoon. It was nearly seven,
and he had not called to say he would be late. He always called. It was
one of the many things she loved about him. After thirteen years of
marriage, she had never once thought he took her for granted.
Randy's call that morning made David's whereabouts even more of a
mystery. She half expected David to come back home after learning that
their game was cancelled. She did not get worried immediately, figured
he had stopped by the driving range since he was all decked out to play
anyhow. By mid afternoon, concern started creeping up on her. She
called Randy's house twice to see if he knew where David might have
gone. No answer either time. He was probably sleeping all day, maybe
even at the doctor. He had sounded awful when he called, and was
obviously in a hurry to get off the phone with her.
Melissa doubled over slightly as a pang of discomfort shot through her
stomach. Cramps always struck when she was anxious or nervous. She
looked up at the clock, saw that it was now just past seven. David had
left the house over nine hours ago. Melissa felt completely hopeless,
incapable of calming down or finding a way to pass the time. She
decided to try Randy once more. He was the last person she knew of that
may have seen her husband. She picked up the cordless in the kitchen
and dialed Randy's cell phone.
After three rings, Melissa nearly gave up. She expected the voicemail
to pick up again. To her surprise, Randy answered and uttered a muffled
"hello." He sounded like he was talking into a pillow.
"Randy, its Melissa. How are you feeling?" She couldn't bring herself
to bypass the pleasantries altogether.
"A little better. I've been in bed all day."
"Aw, I'm sorry. Listen, I've been trying to reach you. Did David come
by this morning?"
"Yeah. Not long after I called. He was disappointed that I couldn't
play. It's probably for the best though. It's been like cats and dogs.
Why, what's up?"
"I haven't heard from him all day. He still hasn't come home."
"That's weird. Did you try him on his cell?"
"Several times. I keep getting one of those 'temporarily out of
service' messages. I'm really getting worried, Randy. Did he say he was
going anywhere after he left?"
"No, just said we'd try to play next weekend. I have no clue where he
might be."
"What if something happened to him? This isn't like him at all."
Melissa shivered. "What should I do?"
Randy's voice cleared, ever so slightly. "Melissa, I don't want to get
you any more worked up than you already are, but I think you should
call the police."

Randall James glowed with triumph as he hung up the phone. At the first
hint of concern for David, she had turned to him. In time, she would
learn to lean on him even more, for comfort and companionship. He would
stand by her through the unimaginable grief as she mourned her departed
husband. He would nurture her back to strength with compassion and
words of encouragement. She would once again stand on her feet a proud
and confident woman. She would have him to thank.
His victory was bittersweet. Randy hated hurting Melissa, knew losing
David would crush her spirit for quite some time. This was the only
thing that had kept him from taking action sooner. In Cincinnati, he
used to take David to the most risqu? clubs on the scene, hoping
against hope that he would succumb to the temptation of another woman.
After dozens of disappointments, Randy concluded that more drastic
measures would be needed to get David out of the way.
One Saturday night, less than a year before David and Melissa left
Cincy, Randy was dropping David off after a night on the town. He had
been planning the maneuver for weeks, had selected the exact spot where
the accident would take place. Randy drove fifteen miles over the speed
limit, bore down on the sharp curve on Highway 16 just two miles from
David's home. He headed straight for the old oak, ignoring the sharp
bend in the road. David screamed. Randy chickened out at the last
moment. He had no concern for David's life, but he could not go through
with it. Melissa would know he killed her husband, and accident or no,
it was bound to get in the way.
Like that night years ago, Randy had planned ahead. The concept came
to him over a year ago. Just get David alone, when Melissa had no idea
they were together. Two days after he moved to Mydland, he found the
place. Shorelock drive. No road sign, no homes, no witnesses. A perfect
place to do the deed and drop the body in a watery grave. Today was the
perfect day to see it through. The torrential rain had been a nice
surprise. It added to the camouflage, and erased any second thoughts he
may have had. No one would ever suspect him, especially not
Melissa.
It wouldn't be long until David was found. The water was at most twenty
feet deep where he had gone under. This was of no concern to Randy. The
sooner he was found the better. He wanted Melissa to start healing as
quickly as possible. After that, he expected her undivided
attention.

Melissa was out of her mind by eight in the evening. She had called
David's cell phone at least two dozen times. She called all of his
friends in town, but no one had seen nor heard from him. She stopped
short of calling his parents. If he had not turned up by morning, she
would then proceed to worry them sick.
The police offered no peace of mind. They had a nauseating air of
sarcasm about the situation. They asked if he was a drinker, or
gambler. She assured them that he was not. Still they insisted that he
was probably out on the town and didn't bother to check in. They said
they got dozens, sometimes hundreds, of calls every week just like
hers. To them she was just another lonely housewife crying wolf in the
dark. While she would have found their apathy understandable under
different circumstances, tonight it was downright insulting.
She had finally gotten them to agree to let her bring a picture or him
down to the station. They promised to fax it out to their patrolmen and
have them keep an eye out, even though a full-blown search would not
begin until he had been missing for twenty-four hours. Melissa had
realized with horror that David was nearly halfway there.
She finally settled on a picture of David sitting in his office chair
with his Gibson Les Paul in his lap. It was one of her favorites, but
she would gladly part with it in exchange for his safe return. She
wrestled it out of its antique frame, tucked it into her purse, and
headed out the front door.
Just as she reached her car, the phone rang inside.

After executing David Barron's untimely demise and walking over five
miles in pouring rain, Randall James was physically drained. But
mentally, he was wired tight. Well past midnight, he was still nowhere
near sleep. He paced his apartment, thought of questions that may arise
from Melissa, the police, other friends of David's, and recited his
responses aloud. His story was simple. David came by at ten A.M. Randy
told him he was under the weather and had tried to call him to cancel.
Sorry, maybe next weekend, they had agreed. David left, didn't say
where he was going. End of story. What happened to David next is a
complete mystery.
Randy thought about how he would publicly grieve for his friend. He
would plead with the police, frantically call all of David's
acquaintances, and personally fan the flames until his friend was
found. Then he would ask to speak at the funeral, would tell the dozens
of witnesses how David Barron was a shrewd businessman, loving husband,
and great friend. He would tell them he had always looked up to David,
always tried to live in his image.
This was true, of course. So true, in fact, that Randy had no choice
but to kill him.
The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle. It provided a comforting
backdrop of white noise for Randy's mental oration. He paced into the
kitchenette and poured the last of a fifth of bourbon into a tumbler.
He raised the glass in a toast to himself, celebrating a long awaited
victory.
"Welcome to Mydland, Randy."
He heard a knock at the door. His heart jumped into his throat. He put
the glass of Jim Beam down and took a few quick breaths. Whoever it
was, after the day's events, it was probably not a welcome visitor.
Randy quietly slid open the kitchen drawer and pulled out a butcher's
knife. He crept toward the front door in his sock feet, gripping the
blade firmly by his side. He looked through the peephole and was
shocked to see Melissa Barron standing outside in the rain.
Randy was overwhelmed with anxiety, but at the same time wished he did
not have to face her so soon. He needed more time to prepare himself,
to sharpen his furious, distraught demeanor. His head screamed to
ignore her, let her knock until she gave up and went away, but his
heart would not allow it. He yearned to begin filling the void she now
had in her life. He ran back to the kitchen, tossed the knife in the
sink, and hurried back to the door to let his beloved inside.

She sat on his couch with her legs tucked under a blanket, trembling
uncontrollably. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of coffee that had
gone cold. Randy consoled her, masked his tears of joy as tears of
pain. Melissa poured her heart out to him, told him she feared the
worst and that she may never see David again. Randy said a few
comforting words, but did not want her to get her hopes up too high.
After all, he knew full well that her fears were true, and he did not
want her anguish to be accentuated by a false hope that David may still
be alive. Suddenly, Melissa uttered words that made Randy's heart race
against his chest.
"Randy, I know I should be at home, but I just can't bear to be alone
tonight. Would it be okay if I crashed here on your couch?"
Randy swallowed a lump in his throat. Melissa did not even know of
David's demise, and already she was turning to him. "Don't be
ridiculous. Sleep in my room and I'll stay out here."
"No, no, I'll be fine out here. I'm so exhausted, I could sleep
anywhere."
"Melissa, I insist. I'm not going to have you sleeping on a loveseat
after all you've been through today. You march in that room right
now."
Too weary to argue, Melissa got up from the couch, set the cold coffee
of the kitchen counter and headed for Randy's bedroom door. When she
reached the doorway, she turned back toward him. "It's fine if you
sleep in here too, you know. I don't mind."

It was ecstasy beyond his wildest imagination. The same night her
husband was reported missing, she was in Randy's bed! No doubt she was
there solely for the comfort of his companionship, but what a great
foundation for building their new bond. He figured it would take
months, maybe years to get Melissa Barron into his bed. It had only
taken a few hours.
She slept fitfully beside him, tossing and turning. She flipped over
and faced his back, and he could smell her warm breath against his
shoulder. Suddenly, Melissa reached her hand out and placed it on his
thigh. She ran her fingers up his side to his shoulder and pulled
herself closer, pressing her body against his. Was she asleep, dreaming
of David and projecting the dream on him? Randy didn't know, and
frankly could care less. He pretended to be asleep, breathed out in
short gasps. He could feel himself getting excited. Melissa pulled
tighter still, running her hand against his cheek. Randy drew in his
breath deeper. Then he felt the damp cloth cover his nose and mouth.
The world went black before he even had time to react.

He could hear faint breathing, whispering in another room. He opened
his eyes and it was as though he was staring into the sun. He felt like
the bed was spinning, and he couldn't move his hands or feet. Suddenly,
a rush of ammonia filled his brain and he jolted back into reality. His
eyes began to adjust to the morning light, and he saw that his hands
and feet were hog-tied. He looked up and saw Melissa Barron holding a
bottle of ammonia and staring down at him with a look of pure
satisfaction.
"You killed him, you bastard!" She dumped the ammonia over his
face.
He screamed as it burned is nose and eyes. "What are you talking
about? Have you lost your mind?"
"It was you! I thought you were our friend. All these years, we
trusted you, and you take away the one thing that means the world to
me!"
"Melissa, please calm down! I don't know where you got this idea, but
we don't even know where David is! We don't even know if he's dead or
alive."
A deep voice boomed from behind the bedroom door. "You sure don't, do
you?" The door opened, and David Barron walked into the room.
Randy stared at him in disbelief. He always wondered what it would be
like to see a ghost. Now he knew. David Barron, the man who was
polished even when he wasn't trying to be, looked like walking death.
His shirt was covered in mud and hung on him in tatters. His shoes
squeaked as he walked. His face was covered in dirt, as if he had just
stepped out of a coalmine. "What the hell?"
David gave Randy that look again, the one where he seems to be trying
to read into his face. "You're not very thorough, Randy. Never have
been. I managed to get to a phone and call Melissa just as she was
leaving to take my picture to the police. We came up with this little
plan to give you a little dose of your own medicine. Tastes like shit,
doesn't it?" Luckily, the cops were nice enough to let us have a little
fun with you before they lock you away for the rest of your miserable
life. They're in the other room. Want me to get them for you?"
Randy looked back and forth at David and Melissa, still not believing
what was happening. He had watched David die! Just last night, his
dreams were coming true faster than he ever thought possible. Tears ran
down his face and he began to sob like a baby.
David looked at him curiously, pitied and hated him all at once. "Good
night, Randy," he said, and brought his fist across the bridge of
Randall James's nose, breaking it in two places.

13