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Back Lomita For Ever
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-one
  27. Chapter Twenty-two
  28. Chapter Twenty-three
  29. Chapter Twenty-four
  30. Chapter Twenty-five
  31. Chapter Twenty-six
  32. Chapter Twenty-seven
  33. Chapter Twenty-eight
  34. Chapter Twenty-nine
  35. Chapter Thirty
  36. Chapter Thirty-one
  37. Chapter Thirty-two
  38. Chapter Thirty-three
  39. Chapter Thirty-four
  40. Chapter Thirty-five
  41. Chapter Thirty-six
  42. 1

Where the fuck are you?

Mexico.

That’s great. That’s just great. Ever, you are a shit.

So are you. I love Jacob and I will see him but you I’m not too bothered about. Is that all you can say? Does it not go any deeper than that?

No, I don’t think so, fuck you.

Version 2:

Where are you?

I’m in Mexico, it’s really hard to explain but the man who bought my father’s paintings and who basically fucked his life has been shot. You might have heard about it, Ingmar Lorken.

Yes I have, that’s you, you’re connected with that, what the hell have you been doing?

No, well yes, but the old lady I was staying with, she shot him.

What the fuck! Have you lost it again Ever? Have you? Oh, please God no.

Listen, I want you to come to the house she gave me.

She what, why, why would she do that, were you fucking her? Ever this is sick.

Neither was what he wanted: both were ridiculous realities.

Ever couldn’t even complete this conversation, as the details would take a lifetime to explain and a phone call would be impossible. Was his life with them? Follow your heart. Not your fucking crazy head.

He wanted Jacob, he wanted to see Clarissa. He wanted life with a family, he wanted children and love and sharing. Not isolation, like his parents, like Lomita. He wanted to belong to the human race for the first time. He was a human. With a thousand to one chance of a healthy life.

A thousand to one.

Good odds.

He’d take them.

But to be honest, he didn’t really care. Because it had been well worth it.

And death had never appeared to be that tough an option.

*

A situation that hadn’t been anticipated.

Was the press attention that the killer of Ingmar Lorken would receive.

Two days after the burial there were photographers taking pictures of the outside of Casa Lomita, an investigative reporter who asked for an interview regarding the final works that Lomita Nairn had bought from the man she killed.

The work of John Everett Millen.

Ever did not give an interview but became aware of the notoriety that his father’s work had achieved.

Mr Chang, the hotel owner in San Diego, who had picked up the work for a pittance, now claimed, in an interview, that he had commissioned the work from this outstanding artist.

Ever had the idea of sending two paintings to an auction house in Los Angeles in the wake of the scandal. The association of horror and murder with an artist is the stuff of Caravaggio.