Tuesday, July 10, 2012

An excerpt of Roll Call is in Front Row Magazine

Front Row Magazine put an excerpt from novel Roll Call in it. Check it out in a Front Row seat here http://frontrowlit.com/?p=2491 Here it is...

Roll Call, by Glenn Langohr

Roll Call is a true prison story with a cast of characters that include Mexican drug cartels, Southern California street gangs and Hell’s Angels all fighting for their piece of the drug culture. In the middle of it all, B.J. is hell bent for destruction until he realizes his destiny in the nick of time.
Add a good detective squeezed out of the loop by an overzealous narcotic detective; a robust prison union trying to call the shots; a handful of drug criminals trying to find their conscience and you have the perfect recipe for a revolutionary uprising, bound by blood, all leaving the reader wondering, who are the real criminals?
Vince wrapped his body around Candy’s in a spoon position. She was facing the other way and he breathed in the fragrance of her shampoo and thought about things. I’ve been out of prison for almost three years; I’m off parole and back in Orange County. Why did I feel so drawn back to this county? Why didn’t’ I just stay in Bakersfield with my Mom where parole and life was so easy? I know why, life is boring out there and I missed this area.
Feeling Candy’s heart beating too fast and her foot kicking, Vince thought about being released from Pelican Bay and then High Desert. He remembered paroling with Damon and the pact he made not to do any more speed no matter what! He remembered telling Damon how he could see that speed the biker slammed into his vein clearly, how it sent him off on a path that went in so many directions, but guaranteed that it would end in prison. Now here he is, discharged from parole and back in Orange County with this gorgeous girl, Candy for the past two months. Her heart is beating too fast.
Vince thought, Candy got out of rehab two months ago and seemed to fall in love with me instantly. Now I know I’m in love with her. Vince looked at the alarm clock he’d set up with the small mirror angled just right until he could see Candy’s face. Her eyes were open and her eye lids were flashing open like a butterfly’s wings.
Vince thought about what he’d heard about Candy. There were rumors she had been an escort, a high priced one. It was said she used to have a route through the most expensive gated communities in south Orange County where she stopped and did what she did to get her bills paid and clothes and other presents bought for her. Supposedly she didn’t have sex with any of them, rather she was more like a mobile stripper who teased and flaunted her way through wallets and credit cards.
Vince laughed, I should have known, with her name, Candy.
Vince looked at the alarm clock right as it went off at six am… He watched her pretend to just wake up, yawn and get up. He watched her sexy voluptuous angular body walk to the bathroom in a G-string and thought, she is a candy bar, though. As soon as the door closed Vince reached over to the table and looked in the handbag she seemed so protective of. Her paper work for the lawyer she worked for was in there, so were two pairs of stiletto heels, a mini skirt, lingerie, and a video camera. Vince pulled out the small video camera and slid it under the bed. A half an hour later Candy walked out.
She walked out dressed in a tan business suit looking like a model receptionist and sat on the bed. Vince looked into her brown eyes and kissed her pouting lips possessively for a couple of minutes. Then he stared at her curly brown hair and angel shaped face as she said, “Vince I want a family life with you honey. That’s my dream, so don’t forget it. I have to go to work; I’ll be home for dinner. Love ya.”
Vince pulled out the video camera. The little blue hand held camera had the name Candy 007 on it in glittered stickers. He hit play and watched Candy in her other life. The video showed the footage was from two days ago. Vince thought, right when I felt her feet kicking and her heart beating too fast. The video played. Vince watched Candy video herself driving in her Range Rover to the Smut Peddlers playing on the stereo. Candy was wearing strappy stiletto heels, a mini skirt, a top that showed off her uplifted breast and tan skin, her hair in pony tails, sucking on a sucker while dancing to the music. Vince saw her pulling up to a gated community. A gate guard came to the window and Candy said, “I’m Candy for Vladimir. He should have called me in already.”
Vince stared at the gate guard and knew the community. It was the most expensive gated community in Santa Margarita. He watched the gate guard hand over a pass and Candy drive in. The video stopped and started again. This time, someone Candy called Vladimir was holding it and following her around. Candy walked into an extravagant kitchen right to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka like she knew the place well. Candy asked, “Don’t you have any Grey Goose Vodka? You know that’s my favorite.”
Vince heard the man holding the video’s deep voice say, “I’m Russian, what do you expect… Are you back on your mobile escort tour now that you’re out of rehab? And what’s up with your job working as a receptionist for that lawyer, is it just a front?”
Candy smiled for the camera while she poured half a glass over a couple pieces of ice. “You ask a lot of questions. Yes, I’m back in business. It’s hard to let go of the kind of money I’m worth. The lawyer I started working for uses speed and heard of my infamous reputation. He hired me because of it, so you can assume what kind of work I do for him. Now back to business. Do you have any more speed for me and can you pay my Range Rover payment Vladimir?”
“It depends. Take off your G-string and throw it to me. You’re going to have to go up to my room and dance for me for a couple hours. Are you going to let me taste you yet?”
Candy lifted a leg and climbed out of her G-string and lifted the other one and did the same thing. She threw it toward the voice and said, “Eventually, if you’re really good to me, I might let you taste my candy.”
Vince felt a pain foreign to him as he heard the deep voice laughing, following Candy up the stairs with her ass swishing back and forth underneath the skirt. Vince realized what that foreign pain was, his heart breaking. He took a deep breath that got caught in his throat thinking about how long he’d been lonely, locked in a cell. His saw his hand holding the video camera shaking and set it down right as the phone rang.
“Vince… Did I… Leave my video camera?”
“What camera Candy?”
Vince detected in the tone of his voice the knowledge of the camera and gritted his teeth.
Vince heard Candy’s tone of voice signify she knew he knew. “I’m sorry Vince…”
“It’s okay! We’ll deal with it!”
Vince detected the desperate tone of his voice and hated it.
Vince heard Candy’s voice crying, “No it’s not okay. I can’t be trusted, I’m too dysfunctional.”
Vince said, “The story of my life,” to the dial tone.
Vince paced Candy’s apartment back and forth just like he did in his cell for all of those years. He thought, I should call Damon at Crossroads sober living in San Clemente. I’ll call after I call Candy again. Candy still didn’t answer and Vince found himself remembering the hundreds of cell searches he lived through in the many different cells he’d lived in with Damon. Instead of calling Damon he found himself going through Candy’s closet. He searched every inch of every hand bag and purse, checked every pocket in jeans, jackets, and sweaters, went through the seams of every hat and then remembered something. Candy was wearing one of her favorite dresses three days ago when she first started acting wired. A Gucci dress, a Valentino dress and there it was, the Oscar De Larenta. It was a black sexy dress that had tassels that could be tied around the dress or left to hang. Inside one of the tassels there was an opening and a small bag of crystal speed wedged inside.
Vince pulled it out and dumped it on a table. He remembered Candy saying, “I want to have a family life with you honey.”
Vince thought, “I’ll find you and make that family life happen” as he snorted every granule like a vacuum. He felt the pain burn a trail up the nasal membranes that triggered all of the insane memories just under the surface. He thought of those six years in prison with Damon, the hundreds of cell searches, bus rides, court trips, politics and survival strategies, and realized something. I can’t call Damon, I’m high, and I’d be a bad influence.
Pacing around in circles Vince found himself stopping at Candy’s nightstand drawer, opened it and found her cell phone bill. There were two numbers she called with the most frequency, and the times developed the first part of a mental map. He brought every trash can in the apartment and filtered through everything and found notes containing more pieces to an investigative puzzle. Vladimir’s name, phone number and address were there. The search intensified into a meticulous dissection of Candy’s apartment; and, Vince thought, her own personality. There was a drawer full of legal briefs from the lawyer’s office where she worked. Upon closer inspection, Vince realized, Candy is filtering through his most high profile clients. Good girl. Vince pulled the drawer all the way out and off the hinges and found a flash drive hidden on the frame of the drawer with a piece of tape. Really good girl, let’s see what’s on it.
About the Author
Glenn Langohr resides in southern California where he spends his time doing what he loves best, reading and writing. He started writing from prison on drug charges and hasn’t stopped since. He is an usher at his church and loves to reach out to other prisoners to help them turn their lives around. Glenn is married to his dream girl, Sanette, who plays Annette in one of his novels.

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