Crazy Joe

Crazy Joe

By Ofelia Gränd

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2020 Ofelia Gränd

ISBN 9781646564101

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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Despite the world being in a state of chaos at the time this story was written, four brave people from different corners of the world took the time to sit down and help me with it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to Gabi Cervenka, Leonie Duncan, Jean Malherbe and Susana Perez. And a huge thank you to Amy Spector and Al Stewart for always being there, especially when it's time to come up with blurbs, LOL.

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Crazy Joe

By Ofelia Gränd

Chapter 1

Jonas Raghnall shook off his jacket and held it over his head as he jogged from his two-room apartment to the grocery store across the street. The smell of spring rain followed him through the door, making him smile. The drops hit the ground so hard it looked like they jumped back up again.

Inside, he shook out his jacket before he put it on and waved at Megan by the checkout, then hurried in past the automatic gates. The jacket fabric was damp against his skin and the floor a little slippery under the soles of his neon-colored sneakers. He'd been tempted to buy the pink glittery ones, but while he didn't have large feet for a man, he would've had to make a special order. He sighed. If only women's feet could've been a little bigger, just a little. It was probably a good thing they weren't, though. He was an adult now, and while he refused to fully follow the norm, his days of pink glitter shoes were over. Not having the option of impulse buying them made it easier to ensure his days of glitter shoes truly were over.

Sighing again, he focused on his shopping. He only needed milk...and maybe some chocolate. Yes, chocolate. His mouth watered--coffee, chocolate, and dry clothes. It was all a man needed to be happy.

Glitter didn't make the list...not when he stuck to the short list.

Grinning--since he'd soon have everything he needed to be happy--he zigzagged past the few late-night shoppers strolling down the aisles, grabbed the milk, and turned toward the checkout.

Tomorrow was Monday, his favorite day of the week. To be honest, he liked all the days of the week, but since Mondays had such a bad reputation, he figured they needed some extra love.

If you were to trust statistics, Mondays were bad--most heart attacks and suicides happened on Mondays. But since he didn't plan on doing away with himself or have a heart attack, there was no reason to mope on a Sunday night.

Excuse me. Do you know where I can find coconut milk?

The air froze in Jonas' lungs. As panic exploded in his mind, he dived behind the flour shelf. The milk carton hit the gray speckled floor tile. One of the bottom corners was dented, and a drop of milk slowly bled out on the floor. Damn it!

Picking up the carton, he held his breath and listened to Mrs. Moor telling Abe Cooper--the Abe Cooper--to look on the ethnic shelf.

Maybe it wasn't Abe Cooper.

It couldn't be Abe Cooper.

Why would Abe Cooper be in Northfield? He wouldn't be. He'd be in Whiteport, happily married to some woman who'd been part of the cheerleading squad in high school. They'd have two children, a pristine white home, and maybe a dog if it didn't shed too much hair. And it was good. It was how it should be.

The churning in his stomach was an illusion. Jonas was perfectly fine with Abe and his wife, happy for them even.

He could've sworn he'd recognize Abe's voice everywhere, but he'd been wrong because Abe Cooper couldn't be here. Northfield was Jonas' home, and there were no Abe Coopers in his town.

Slowly, he tiptoed closer to the voices and tried