"My name’s Cheryl. I worked for your brother’s editor." she said smiling and extending her free hand across the table to me. I didn’t intend to respond it just kind of blurted out. "His what?" "Ryan’s editor, of course; Ms. La Fevers, from Haunted House Publishing. Didn’t you know about us?" "What the heck? What are you talking about?" "Don’t tell me Ryan never mentioned us! Didn’t ya’ll wonder who was publishing his book?" "Ryan? Write a book?" Half the time my brother didn’t do his homework there’s no way he would write an entire book. "You’ve got the wrong people, lady." "No I don’t. I’ve seen pictures of you and Ryan told me where ya’ll lived. He didn’t even tell you about his book?" Ok, clearly this woman is insane, but I was bored and had nothing better to do so I indulged her a bit. "No, I don’t think he got around to it before he threw himself into that lake; but do tell. What was it called? My Life as a Masochistic Slacker?" I don’t think that’s quite what she was expecting because she gave me a look that no word can describe...the best I can say is that she was horrified. "Uh... no. you really think Ryan was a slacker? Humph no wonder you didn’t know. He was an amazing writer." "Amazing?" "He certainly blew a lot of people away at the company. I kinda’ guessed ‘bout the ‘masochistic’ bit from some of his work, but I wasn’t sure ‘til he died. It’s not right; the way that some of the world’s best people have to die when some, who care nothing for others or even at times themselves, get ta’ live." "Where the heck are you from, pardner?" The whole drawl-thing was starting to get to me. "Bawn’ n’ bred in Texas." she announced proudly, putting a hand over her heart. "Why, hun? Cunt’ya tell?" She bowled over with laughter, spilling her drink down her front. The whole sight of her was revolting. "Look, lady. I don’t know if you’re telling me the truth, but, I guess I’d like to know more." I jotted down my number on a napkin and stuffed it in her handbag. "Call me when you’re sober." "Evanescence." she hiccupped. "What?" "Evanescence did that song. Ryan liked it. He made me listen to it over and over." She laughed again and slumped into the booth. "Ok, at least she’s telling some truth." I thought, "Ryan did love that song." I couldn’t just leave her there. I hate drunk people but I had to help her out if I ever wanted to figure out what was going on with that book. I took her drink and set it down out of her reach, slipped her arms over my shoulders, and hefted her outside. It didn’t take long to find her car. It was the only one with Texas plates. I put her into the passenger seat and sat myself behind the wheel. "Where are you going to take her? You know better than to bring her home." "Oh, shut up conscience.....I’ll think of something." After a heck of a lot of rooting through her purse I found a local address scrawled on yet another old napkin. It would have to do for now. It took awhile to find the place, but I somehow managed it. It was some dinky old cabin in the middle of nowhere. By then it had stopped raining so the trek into the cabin wasn’t too bad. Strangely the place wasn’t locked. "Damn, I hope this is her place. I don’t want to find some backwoodsman hiding in the bath with his shotgun." "Ungggh?" She groaned. "Where are we?" "Crap....Isn’t this your house?" She sat up for a second and looked around sleepily. "Ryan’s." This was Ryan’s? Wow...not what I had expected. I left her on the couch and headed upstairs for a better look. I found Ry’s bedroom pretty quickly. It seemed a little more like him with black walls, ceiling, and carpet. I went over to his bed and couldn’t help but snuggle under the soft, furry black comforter. Yeh, yeh; I was missing him. He was my brother after all. I pulled the blanket over my head and pretended not to be crying. She, Cheryl, was right about one thing. It wasn’t fair. ok that's as far as i've gotten right now but i'll write more soon | 
