Jeff, finds himself in
Atlanta Magic
Town
Chapter 1: Jeff, a forty-something aerospace executive wants
to get out of his hotel in Atlanta on a Friday night. The hotel shuttle driver
gives him suggestions including the strip clubs, but Jeff has decided he definitely does not want to go to a
strip club, so ends up in heading the Atlanta Underground where he is about to meet trouble...
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To my friends: Many of you know me for my columns in humor and business. I have aspired to write something where I could really dig down to create a whole world for my readers complete with characters you care about in engaging story lines. It took over two years to write the Magic Town Trilogy. I have started by posting the first three chapters of Magic Town, the first in the series, posting another chapter every few days leading up to the first of the three exciting climax scenes in this book.
I have raised interest of agents and publishers. My dream is to find my living as an author. I hope as you are reading Magic Town, the first in the series, that you will see my dream can be realized.
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Author contact: Chris Lamela,
About Magic Town
Jeff, a forty-something aerospace executive finds himself in Atlanta on business wanting to get out of the hotel on a Friday night. In the Atlanta Underground he meets up with Pick, a charming sly con man who takes Jeff on a tour of the Underground ending up at the notorious Magic Town strip club. There is only one problem: Jeff is the spitting image of a congressman involved in the largest corruption case in Atlanta history! Nancy, the beautiful FBI agent with the golden eyes takes Jeff on the ride of his life as they use detective novels to help them crack the case. With three climax scenes, this story will make the reader gasp. Jeff surrounded by yearning women will make the reader wonder. His new found love with Nancy will make the reader sigh.
About the Magic Town
Jeff, a forty-something aerospace executive finds himself landing in the middle of mystery in the strip clubs of Atlanta, a year later in Washington DC, and a year after that in Silicon Valley. Each time he is thrust into the middle of cases with the beguiling Nancy, the FBI agent with the golden eyes, Arnie the senior agent, and a cast of bad guys straight from the newspaper. Each time Jeff finds himself trapped in difficult and dangerous cases, each time he is instrumental in their solution. Every time he finds his life endangered from shooting, poisoning, or being blown up. The question is, can he survive…
About the author
Chris Lamela has published numerous column-length pieces in humor, business and philosophy. His foray into novels intertwines his personal experiences with a rich cast of characters in captivating story lines. The tension, humor, and romance of this writing reveal a writer with a mature perspective and a playful sense of storytelling. The Magic Town series tells of a hapless man’s adventures into a world of mystery, crime and murder, and romance with characters that come alive for the reader, told in a way that makes the reader want to get to the next page.---------------------------------------------------------------------
Magic Town
Friday 4:16PM: Getting to the Underground
“Driver! Driver! I’m stuck!” the fat woman in the Sheraton hotel airport shuttle van screamed struggling with her seatbelt.
The man standing there was her husband Jeff guessed by the way she
treated him, he tried to lean in to fuss with her seatbelt, she pushed him away
angrily. He was short, maybe five seven, thick glasses, a salt and pepper
mustache that looked like a broom under his nose, the same colored hair
circling his head, wisps combed over the top, couldn’t be more than a hundred
twenty five pounds, reaching in to tussle with her seatbelt again strapped so
tightly around her round bulging form, “Stop that!” she barked. He stepped away,
she screamed, “What the hell is going on here? Driver! DRIVER!”
The overhang at the Sheraton Hotel entry cast a cool shadow in the
November afternoon. Jeff tucked his hands under his arms to keep them warm
watching all this amusing commotion of the fat lady stuck in her seatbelt, her
flustered husband spinning in circles looking back and forth between her and
the driver busy unloading their enormous luggage and huge boxes.
The shuttle van driver, an older man, Haitian, Jeff guessed, who had
already pulled out two enormous heavy suitcases and three large weighty cardboard
boxes just finished setting down a fourth large box next to the hotel’s front
door, he glanced back at the van with his frustrated passenger.
“Driver! Help me out of this damned thing! DRIVER!”
The driver finally turned around to them walking back to the van, the
husband stepping aside, leaned into the van, with a simple click she was freed.
“What the hell kind of seatbelt is this anyway?” she growled. The driver
stepped back, she struggled with hands holding each side of the wide door, fat
legs flailing, plump feet twirling mid-air trying to touch ground, finally sliding
out lurching forward barely catching her footing, stumbling to a stand. With
sweaty face, heaving breath she indignantly brushed off her bright yellow
flowered dress pulling down wads of cloth caught up under her enormous breasts
with both hands, immediately walking toward the hotel’s front door not waiting
for her husband.
The driver turned in polite expectation to the husband who started to
reach into his pocket for a tip, his wife turning her head screaming over her
shoulder, “Don’t you dare tip him!” She reached for the front door yanking it
open, “Don’t you ever tip people that don’t help you!” plowing through the
front door of the Sheraton Hotel. The man held out a couple bills timidly with
an apologetic grin, hurried into the hotel, glanced sideways at the massive
pile of luggage and boxes near the door.
Jeff stood patiently, the driver walking in to alert the bellman,
looking at his watch, just after four-fifteen. He was glad his meeting up in
Norcross broke up early, everybody seemed in a hurry to finish up their Friday
to get home to their families.
The driver finally returned to the van exasperated, stood to catch his
breath. He turned to Jeff speaking clearly with a pleasant, deep voice, “So
sorry to keep you waiting sir, please,” motioning to the back-seat door, Jeff stepped
forward climbing in.
They pulled out of the parking lot. Jeff reached into his inside sport coat
pocket, pulling out a tourist guide the bellman had given him with all of the
Atlanta sites. Jeff studied the guide, turning it over reading the insets about
the different attractions.
Jeff leaned forward, “I want to go to the Atlanta Underground, the
bellman told me to take the van.”
“Yes sir, but no not really. Ah cain’t takes you to the Underground, I
can only take you to the airport, from there you will take the train. It’s only
a ten minute ride, quite convenient, really.”
Jeff studied the guide. “It says here that they just did a big remodel
or something.”
“It was a couple years ago, in nineteen ninety-two, yeah, that’s about
right, a couple years ago when the city made a big deal about cleaning that
place up.” The shuttle driver talked over his shoulder to Jeff. “It got real
run down and they started having all sorts of problems down there.”
“Problems?”
“Yeah, you know, vandalism, picking on the tourists. Muggin’. I heard of
robberies but never any of our hotel guests.”
“Do you ever go there?”
“I haven’t been there in a few years because of all the riff-raff, but I
guess if you come to Atlanta Coke Museum
Jeff didn’t answer as he studied the guide.
“You look mighty familiar, sir.”
Jeff looked up at him, “I don’t think so, I’ve only been here a few
times. I always stay up in Norcross.”
“No sir, I have a good memory for faces, I have seen you somewhere.”
Jeff smiled, “Do you get to Seattle Seattle
“Well, maybe I just have a common looking face, maybe?”
“No sir, I am sure I have seen you somewhere. In the newspaper, I am
sure.”
Jeff smiled, didn’t answer studying the
tour guide, flipping it over to look at the inset about the Atlanta
Underground. He read the inset about the Coke Museum Coke
Museum
The driver kept looking forward driving. “The Coke Museum
They both laughed together.
“That reminds me of the Jelly Belly factory.” The driver looked in the
mirror with a questioning face. “Jelly Belly, you know those little jelly
beans.” The driver half-nodded, his eyes saying that he still wasn’t sure what
Jeff was talking about. “Jelly beans!” the driver smiled nodding. “I was
driving from San Francisco to Sacramento one time, saw the sign so I pulled
over. Did the tour watching all the machines making jelly beans.” He frowned,
“Actually that part made you not so interested in jelly beans. They kept
feeding us samples of jelly beans the whole time, though. They tasted great, but
by the time I got back to my car I wasn’t so sure. I was a little sick to my
stomach.” He laughed. “So I get to my meeting in Sacramento and the first thing
they do is offer me Jelly Belly jelly beans!” Jeff laughed harder than the
driver though he appreciated the driver trying to show that his little anecdote
was at least a little entertaining.
“So okay, maybe not the Coke
Museum
“It is mainly known for some bars. I have
heard the guests say that there are some good restaurants there, too. Nice
stores, especially for women.”
Jeff studied the map feeling a little bad about going to see these kinds
of places without his wife and the two kids.
He thought about how he just got off the phone with his wife before he
headed down from his room, how she told him to get out of the hotel, that if he
had to stay the weekend in Atlanta anyway to go out and have some fun. As she
was saying that all he could do is wonder at the word fun. What kinds of things could be fun for a man by himself in Atlanta, even on a Friday night? He
talked to his daughter who said she was going to a party tomorrow with her
other ten year-old girlfriends, then to his son trying to explain that it was
getting dark where he in was in Atlanta with his son sounding confused because
it was still the middle of the day in Seattle; it’s a heady concept for a six
year-old. Jeff promised that he would explain when he got back home as he
pictured holding a flashlight on the globe they kept on the piano. He adored
his children with all their activities, their constantly learning new things,
how seldom he got to be the source of that new learning, how privileged he was
when he had the chance. Yes, he loved his kids.
His wife came back on the line, they said their I Love You, his wife’s last words were to tell him again that it
was Friday night and it would be good to go get out of the hotel, “But Jeff, be
careful. I’ve heard some stories about Atlanta
How many times has he gone to really cool places where he wished he had
his family with him? Damn. Washington DC , New York City , Boston , San
Francisco Washington
Monument with a thermometer, a Golden Gate Bridge Atlanta
Jeff leaned forward to the driver, “What other things are there to do
for a guy like me from out of town with a couple nights to get out?”
The driver gave a thoughtful expression, he brightened, “Well they’s
lots of strip clubs!”
Jeff laughed, “Strip clubs?”
“Well, they’s two kinds, really. They’s the ones they call genlemen’s
clubs, he motioned toward a billboard on the side of the road for a Gentlemen’s
Club Where Your Every Wish Is Our Desire.
Jeff turned his head reading it as they passed. “Theys those kinds that I
never been to. I think they have nicer women but the drinks are more
expensive.” He glanced to Jeff in the mirror, “But of course that’s just what I
hears, you know, I’m a family man myself, this is what I hears from the
guests.”
“Oh, of course, it’s just what you hear, right?” they both laughed.
“Then theys the strip clubs. Lots of them around and I for sho ain’t
been to one of those,” shaking his head. “I hears those places is really rowdy
and all sorts of men goes there, definitely not the kind of place a family man
goes to.” He frowned into the mirror shaking his head, “No, no, no, don’t be
goin to those kinds of places.”
Jeff sat back remembering Denver
He remembered walking across the snowy street hearing loud music
thumping as he neared the building. He pulled open the door at Shotgun Wally’s,
was blasted by loud music THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP seeing a big sign in the
entry for NUDE JELL-O WRESTING! He
could smell food, his stomach told him to go in.
A big bouncer wearing a large cowboy hat put out his hand yelling,
“THREE DOLLARS!” Jeff reached into his pocket pulling out a five which the bouncer
took, leading him to a small booth without offering change. A waitress came up,
Jeff pointed to a burger on the menu, she walked away, he looked around at his
surroundings. It was dark, lit only by different color lights swirling around
the large room, he could see it was all men sitting at the tables. A topless
woman was gyrating in the middle of the room holding onto a gold colored pole
that went up to the ceiling. She swirled around the pole, every so often walking
up to a table where men would eagerly stuff dollar bills into her bikini
bottom. She was overbuilt, she turned walking up to Jeff, he reached into his
pocket to pull out two dollar bills. Soon she was swinging her body over his
table as he had to reach around her swinging parts to stuff money into her
bikini bottom, lights flashed onto his table, he realized she was wearing
panties, not a bikini bottom. Her most prominent features swayed across his
face making shadows across his table, then she turned away moving on to another
table.
Soon the announcement was made that it was time for NUDE JELL-O
WRESTLING! as the loud music subsided. There was a small square area, maybe ten
feet across that looked like a fighting ring with ropes around it. Men left
their booths and tables pulling up chairs around the ring nearly blocking Jeff’s
view, he could see the bottom of the ring covered in what looked like a few
inches of green and red Jell-O. Soon two women clad in bikinis came out, bowed
to the crowd, proceeding immediately to climb the ropes into the ring starting
a kind of mock wrestling throwing hands full of Jell-O at each other, tearing
each other’s tops off to the howls of the men around the ring, soon the women had
managed to tear each other’s bikini bottoms off, the place went crazy. He could
see that the women were both shivering from the cold Jell-O. He had to admit
that there was something crazy in all this. But it was certainly not very erotic. Soon hands reached in
to pull them out. Instead of them going around collecting tips, a topless woman
walked around to the tables with a big clear plastic bowl, one dollar bills
nearly filling it. Jeff remembered laughing to himself that everyone seemed to
know the protocol, that it’s hard for an out-of-towner in these kinds of places.
The loud music started up again THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP another woman
coming up to his table, “LAP DANCE?” Her body swayed in front of his vision. He
was trying to figure out what a lap dance was, though he had a pretty good idea
what a lap dance was but had no idea of what he was supposed to do once she got
into his lap. He was pondering this while large orbs of flesh swung before his
face, a big woman wearing an apron pushed in front of her setting a tray of
food in front of Jeff. The lap-dancer pouted turning away.
He remembered that after he finished eating another woman came up, sat
down next to him, snuggled to him. As he looked at her wondering what he was
supposed to do with a topless blond woman with dark roots framing her head sitting
next to him, she leaned over close to his face, “You’re from out of town,
aren’t you?” He nodded wondering how she could tell. “Is your hotel close by?”
He could see where this was going, that this was not good, he said nothing.
“Want some company?”
Okay, this was definitely not
good.
He leaned over to her saying something about how he had been traveling
all day, that he was tired but thanks anyway. With an insulted face she jumped up
turning to walk away, turned back to Jeff.
“LOSER!”
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MAGIC TOWN !
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