Jim took another quick look around, making sure he saw no one, before getting in his car and driving off. "That was pretty fucking good," Jim thought to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of a non-descript brown brick building downtown. Jim ascended a short flight of stairs, and entered the lobby. Jim's friend Tom, the one who'd set him up with the kid, was waiting in thee lobby when Jim arrived and asked, "How'd it go" Jim gave his friend a big grin and a thumbs up as he said, "Damn...I'm speechless buddy." "Told you." said Tom They parted ways and Jim walked down a plain gray hallway to his office. He reached his desk, cluttered with papers, and took a seat. He'd barely gotten his butt in the chair when the phone rang. Jim picked up the phone and answered, "Metro Vice Detective McGuffin." Jim listened to the person on the other end and responded, "I'll be right there." In a gray windowless room, a visibly terrified, balding middle aged man in a rumpled gray suit sat in a. It seems that the entire population of the neighborhood had lifted the whole roof off of me, enough that somebody could drag me out from under it. They said that two of the people started CPR on me and kept it up until the EMTs got there and told them I was just too busted up to live. The two insisted on continuing as I was transported to the hospital where the ER doc jumped-started my heart again. I’d been officially dead for nearly twenty minutes. After hearing that, I suddenly felt pretty dang good for a dead guy. I asked if they knew how to contact those two people who had refused to let me die. I was told they would try. The next day, my media contacts showed back up and escorted a bearded hippie-type guy and a slender young woman into my room and introduced them as my benefactors. If I was to say that I wasn’t choked up and that tears of gratitude weren’t streaming down my face, I’d be the world’s biggest liar. If it hadn’t been for their refusal to give up on me, I would.
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