On Borrowed Time Read Online Free PDF

Lauren, whom they informed me I had been dating on and off for almost six weeks.
    As they were getting out of the car, John said, “You gonna be okay?”
    “Probably not,” I said.
    “I’ll get you the name of that shrink,” said Willie. “Just in case you want to use it.”
    “Okay,” I said, if only to get them out of the car.
    It was time to go home.
    I took a deep breath before I entered my apartment … our apartment. I turned on the lights and felt like I had been punched in the gut. It was nothing like I had left it, and exactly like it had been before Jen came into my life. No pictures on the walls, no throw rugs, no treadmill, none of the small touches that Jen had added to turn it into a home.
    I moved through the apartment, almost in a daze, but coherent enough to realize that there was no trace of Jen there. I got to the bedroom and looked at the bed, still unmade, yet Jen had never left an unmade bed in her life.
    I didn’t feel my legs give out from under me, but somehow I found myself sitting on the floor.
    And then I started to cry.

 
    The subject has returned to his environment.
    That was how the man known as Juice began his first official report. He knew that was the kind of language his superiors preferred, so he used it, even though he thought it was ridiculous. Were he to write in his normal style, it would have read, Kilmer went back home.
    It was also their idea that he use a code name in all aspects of the operation, and though he found it a little dramatic, he would have suggested it had they not. These people put everything in writing, that was their style, and he didn’t want his real name showing up anywhere.
    Not with murder involved.
    The name “Juice” was his own idea. It was taken from O. J. Simpson, a man he had no use for, but one he felt he could learn from. The real Juice had literally gotten away with murder, and was living what seemed to be a carefree life in Florida, playing golf and thumbing his nose at those who would have him in jail, or worse.
    Then he tempted fate by doing that stupid thing in Vegas, and in the process gave the people who hated him another bite at the apple. They didn’t waste it, and they put him away.
    The lesson for the new Juice was that there is always time to screw things up, no matter how well everything is going. And when this job went well, his life would make Simpson’s time in Florida seem like living in a dungeon.
    The new Juice would never have to work again; he would buy some villa on a beach in the Caribbean and spend all his time sucking down drinks with those little umbrellas in them. Or better yet, he’d buy his own beach. Either way, doing something stupid simply wasn’t his style.
    For the time being, all Juice had to do was keep close tabs on Kilmer and chronicle every move he made. With the technological tools at Juice’s disposal, that would be easy enough. Maybe even a little boring …
    Kilmer was likely to be pretty pathetic, running around like a chicken without a head. But that wasn’t Juice’s problem; all he had to do was keep track of him and deal with any eventualities that came up.
    And then, of course, when the time came, to put Kilmer well out of his misery.

 
    I slept for about an hour, just long enough to dream about Jen. It was a bizarre dream, but certainly no more bizarre than my waking life. We’re walking on the street, and she takes my arm. The look on her face is frightened, but when I ask what’s wrong, she says that I know what’s wrong, that I’ve always known.
    Within moments, she starts to disappear … no, it’s more like disperse, right in front of my eyes. Her body starts to somehow blend in with the air, until there is no distinguishing it and air is all that is left. The entire time, her grip on my arm is getting stronger, as if she is fighting this force, and she’s saying my name, over and over.
    Until finally she is gone.
    Unlike most dreams, this one didn’t fade when I woke