Page 1 of The Tomorrows After You
1
Nicolette
My car engine sputtered to silence; a mechanical representation of the death my career currently faced. The rusty road sign towered above me, offering little consolation.
Welcome to Godot, WV
We’re what you’ve been waiting for!
A deranged Big Boy cartoon with a miner’s helmet gave an exaggerated wink and thumbs up with a pickaxe over his shoulder on one side. I cringed at the other side featuring a female cartoon resembling a gratuitously endowed Olive Oyl holding out a pie with a salacious grin.
If my journalism career wasn't dangling by a frayed thread, jeopardizing my life’s work, I wouldn’t be caught dead back in this town. A town that clearly hadn’t changed a bit in the dozen years since I’d left at seventeen. I had been so anxious to leave my backwoods hometown that I left the summer before my senior year, jetting off to New York to enroll in an early degree program so I could start an internship at the Independent American News Network upon graduation.
The vibration of my phone cut through the oppressive mediocrity of the landscape in front of me.
“Hey, Mel,”I answered.“Please tell me you’re calling to let me know you found meanyother assignment?”
She chuckled into the phone.“Sorry, hon. I’m calling to make sure that old Caddy didn’t crap out on you halfway through Pennsylvania.”
With a sigh, I narrowed my eyes at the patriarchal cartoons, their antiquated eyes mocking me from the billboard.“Yeah... I’m here.”
“I’m going to level with you. When I dropped your name to the producers, they were hesitant. Your body of work is strong, there’s no doubt. But they’re wary after the most recent...noise.”
“No, I understand,”I said quickly.“And I appreciate you going to bat for me.”I punctuated my response, so she knew I didn’t need to be reminded of my recentnoise.
Melody worked for Athena Studios, the company behind the hit docuseriesBeyond Bizarre: Real Weird Real Stories. When she gave me the assignment that would send me back to Godot, the only thing that poked through the impending sense of dread was the shred of hope I could resurrect my recently marred career. From a journalistic integrity standpoint, the docuseries was drivel. But it was popular drivel. And the same producers had hands in some legitimate documentary studios.
“You built a strong following in Easton,” she said. “It’s a big city and you covered some real topics in your podcast. The studio was impressed with the content… But they don’t exactly hire off YouTube followers. You need a home run here, kiddo.”
My cheeks burned at the reductive summary of how I’d spent the last seven years. I opened my mouth to argue, but snapped it shut. Melody was sticking her neck out for me. I knewshetook me seriously. It was her bosses I had to convince.
“This could open a lot of doors, Nicolette. No one has gotten through to Riot Asher in over ten years.”
“And you think I can?”I asked.
“If anyone can, it’s you. Put on that high school sweetheart smile and get him to open up. The guy must have a side to this story.”
She made it sound so easy.
Nausea crept up my throat. I’d heard about Grace Asher’s murder. I already moved to New York, but it had made national news because of how goddamn bizarre it really was.
When Riot Asher confessed to killing his mother, it stunned everyone. A murder hadn’t occurred in Godot in decades.
He was only a year older than me in school, but I don’t think I’d spoken five words to Riot Asher during the eight years I spentin this town. Despite living in Godot since nine years old, I never felt a part of the community. My affinity for asking questions was frowned upon. I’d kept to myself and never looked back once my bags were packed.
I was an outsider now. And Godot didn’t like outsiders.
“What if I can’t get him to talk?”I asked.
“You? The Bloodhound of New England? Can’t get someone to talk?”I almost smiled at the old nickname.
“Okay, what if he talks and his story is the same as his statement? He’s never strayed from it.”
“We don’t need him to change the story. We need a psychological portrait. Was hereallya golden boy who snapped under the immense pressure of collegiate expectations? Or was he a silent predator all along?” She paused. “Or was Mama Asher a bible-thumping bigot who beat her sons into loving the Lord until finally the youngest snapped?”I heard a sharp intake of breath.“Oh, I like that angle. Go for that one.”
I frowned.“You know that’s not how it works. You collect the facts. Gather the empirical data. Then piece together motives and a narrative.”
Melody chuckled before clucking her tongue.“Your news world might’ve operated that way. But this is the entertainment business. We need streams.”I blew out a humiliating breath.“Plus, everyone loves a good redemption story. Look. I’ll mail you the treatment for the episode once it’s finished. We’ve got three storyline options for how to end it. We need you to paint us a picture of why he did it. And Nicolette?”She paused and I let the silence swell.“You get him to go on the record? I can’ttellyou what doors that could open.”
