Color Me Grey: Book One of the Alexis Stanton Chronicles

256 Pages·2011·0.79 MB·English

by  Phelps J C

Color Me Grey
Book One of the Alexis Stanton Chronicles
by
J.C. Phelps
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
J.C. Phelps at Smashwords
Color Me Grey
Copyright © 2004 by J.C. Phelps
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*****
Written for:
Alexandra
Edy
Jim
Rick
Robert
&
Robert
Special thanks to:
Lynn
Rachel
Robert
*****
COLOR ME GREY
Chapter One
My name is Alexis Stanton, but I always introduce myself as Alex. Most
everyone calls me Lexi though. I always thought Lexi sounded like a silly girl’s
name. Lexi just doesn’t reflect my personality. I can be silly, but generally I’m
pretty serious.
I can get silly when I’m with my childhood friend, Colin. He’s a few years
older than me but we grew up together. Our dads worked together in the service
and we spent quite a lot of time at each other’s houses.
My dad is pretty picky about who I associate with. One of his favorite sayings
is, “You are who you run with.” I didn’t understand that until I got out of the
house and started college. Then I started to run with the wrong crowd. I
eventually started the party thing and got myself a boyfriend; my very first
boyfriend at twenty, pretty sad, but the truth.
I didn’t just get any boyfriend; I got one of those boyfriends. You know the
kind. I was in love with him and so was he, in love with himself. His name was
Anthony. That’s a different story though.
My parents have money and could have paid for any type of education I
wanted. I was home schooled and then, of course, I attended college. College
was my only formal education. At first I worked hard and did great. Then I got
involved with the wrong crowd. Eventually my brains returned. I dumped my
boyfriend and managed to graduate at the top of my class and can pretty much
do anything with a computer.
Going from home schooling to college was fairly difficult. It wasn’t that it
was too much work, it wasn’t enough and I didn’t know my way around people.
I had too much time on my hands and didn’t know how to make friends. I was
usually found with a bong in one hand and alcohol of some kind in the other
trying to be accepted.
trying to be accepted.
When I was little I used to ask my mom and dad why I couldn’t go to school
with the rest of the kids. Dad would say, “Most of the teachers out there aren’t as
smart as you. You can’t learn much from a dumb teacher.” I found that he was
pretty much right.
My education started at a very early age. I think I was three when Mom and
Dad brought in my first teacher/nanny. Consequently, I could read and write at
the age of three and a half. I think I went through two grades a year until I
reached nine. Then at nine I was somewhat allowed to choose what I wanted to
learn. The subjects I picked were like extra curricular activities to my parents. I
would pick karate and Mom would pick literature and Dad would pick history
and I would have to continue to do well in the subjects they chose or they would
make me stop the one I had chosen until I started doing well again. I always
wanted to try something new, so I was always busy with learning one thing or
another.
I grew up wanting to be a boy, so I chose boy pursuits. I wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be a part of the A-Team. I wanted to learn self-defense, karate, rock
climbing, and mechanics, that kind of thing.
Thanks to Mom and Dad and their money, I tried my hand at many things.
Mom didn’t want me to be such a tomboy so she made me take etiquette classes.
But Dad liked the idea that I wanted to be tough so he paid to have a Special
Forces drill instructor teach me to infiltrate and take over a small country. I’ve
been schooled in everything from how to be a lady to the basics of dressing a
wound with some covert maneuvers and chef skills sprinkled over the whole
education casserole.
I’ve since decided that being a boy instead of a girl has it’s advantages, but
being a woman is much better than being a man. I actually like the way I look
and as far as I can tell, so do most men. I’m 5’4”, fairly petite but not breakable.
My hair is a light brown, straight and long. I like it long. I can put it up if I want
it out of the way or I can leave it down if I want to make an impression. I have
blue eyes and pretty straight teeth.
I can do what any man can do for the most part. Of course I’m not as strong
as I’d like to be but I know tricks that make me seem stronger. I’ve never been in
any real trouble in my life because I don’t get caught. Then again, I don’t do bad
things often either, unless provoked.
When a girl turns twenty-one she must celebrate for at least a year or so. I did
my share of celebrating and found that I don’t like to get stupid. I can still hold
my own when I’m drunk, but I can’t seem to keep myself out of trouble. If I
drink vodka, gin or rum I either get much too talkative or turn into a blubbering
baby. If I drink bourbon I get nasty and mean. Beer and wine make me that silly,
giggly girl I don’t want to be so, I stick with the whiskey. The only problem with
the whiskey is that it makes me feel invincible and that’s what gets me into
trouble. I’ve always been the type of person to speak my mind when it’s
necessary, but give me whiskey and I speak my mind despite necessity. Many
people get offended when you tell them what you really think of them and some
of them take action.
Mom and Dad live on an eighty-acre estate and I’m lucky enough to have
their love and support in whatever I choose to do. I live in the guesthouse rent-
free. It has it’s own private drive for my puke green 1967 Mustang. I love that
car. I bought it with my own money a few years ago and have been able to hang
onto it and keep it in pretty good shape.
I was doing all right with a career in computers but compared to my younger
years, there just wasn’t any excitement. For a few years now I had not been
enrolled in any of Mom or Dad’s educational experiences, no sky diving lessons,
and too much time on my hands. I decided today would be a good day to look
and too much time on my hands. I decided today would be a good day to look
for a different job. Hopefully I could find some adventure.
I picked up my phone, called in to my job and quit. I knew it was
irresponsible, but it felt so good. If I couldn’t find a new job I would go to
Mommy and Daddy and ask for some money to set up some private classes for
something more interesting. I could always learn to fly a plane or helicopter.
I walked the mile or so to the local convenience store and got a paper. On the
same block was a really nice coffee shop called Express Espresso. I went there
often to read. Reading is a habit of mine, not a hobby but a habit. It seems I just
can’t get enough. I will read anything.
I got myself an espresso with cream and sugar. I like the kick but black
espressos are a little too strong for my tastes. Every once in a while I feel like
being rough and tough and drink a straight espresso, but mostly I chose coffee
with French vanilla creamer. Today, I felt kind of tough, but not quite
‘Ramboish’.
There was an empty table in the back of the store. I sat with my back to the
wall so I could see what was going on around me and see who came in the door.
This also was a habit of mine. I was taught well by my private drill instructor.
Not that I really needed that training with being a data processor and on the
computer everyday. It was just ingrained in me from my several years of having
Chief Slade screaming at me and also because I practiced being a spy often.
Dad had hired Chief Slade to teach me self-defense as well as covert ops. Dad
liked the idea that someday I could be a spy if I wanted to. Heck I still don’t
know exactly what my dad does. All I know is that he works for the government
and makes damn good money. Maybe he’s a spy. Probably he is a spy except he
doesn’t go out of the country very often.
I opened the paper and took a sip of the weenie espresso. Data processor, I
I opened the paper and took a sip of the weenie espresso. Data processor, I
could do that job, but that would be the same thing I’m doing now. Waitress,
been there, done that and DO NOT like it. Bartender at the Skylight.
The Skylight was a semi preppy bar downtown. I went there regularly and so
did the Navy men in the area. I had some friends there, actually everybody knew
me. That’s where I’d received my waitress experience. I had also waited tables
at a ritzy restaurant but nothing compares to being a bar wench.
I actually liked the job when I was twenty-one to twenty-three. It was great
money for just working weekends, but it was the same thing every weekend.
About the only time something different happened was when I started a fight.
Fighting isn’t my nature, but being fondled by drunken men is not appealing
to me either. The guys would get plenty of warnings before I decked them. That
caused me a bit of trouble with some of the women too. It seems some of them
didn’t like their boyfriends being taken down by a girl. I would have to explain
to them they should be mad at the man for not keeping his hands to himself. The
first time I tried to explain the situation to a girlfriend she would hear none of it.
I felt bad for her, but I had to defend myself. That kind of thing hardly ever
happens now though. I decided to keep looking for another job. Going back to
the Skylight was not an option.
The next few ads below the ‘Bartender at the Skylight’ were restaurant and
bar related so I skipped them and the next ad was listed in bold ink:
Person wanted with specialized training.
Exciting and highly paid position.
Inquire at 1324 Plaza Dr. Suite 73