Fantasy in Death

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While swords of lightning slashed and stabbed murderously across the scarred shield of sky, Bart Minnock whistled his way home for the last time. Despite the battering rain, Bart’s mood bounced along with his cheerful tune as he shot his doorman a snappy salute.

“Howzit going, Mr. Minnock?”

“It’s going up, Jackie. Going way uptown.”

“This rain could do the same, if you ask me.”

“What rain?” With a laugh, Bart sloshed his way in soaked skids to the elevator.

Thunder exploded across the island of Manhattan, midday commuters sulked under overpriced umbrellas bought from enterprising sidewalk hawkers and maxibuses spewed up walls of wet. But in Bart’s world the sun beamed in golden rays.

He had a hot date with the sexy CeeCee, which in itself was nothing to sneeze at for a self-proclaimed nerd who’d been a virgin until the somewhat embarrassing age of twenty-four.

Five years later, and largely because of the success of U-Play, he could have his pick from a bevy of eager women-even if the eager was mostly due to the money and media his company generated.

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