Seisa

By James Bishop III

Seisa Jaquez, A partner in an Investment firm. She finds herself a bit of trouble with an unknown pest. Feeling like the world around her is changing and not knowing why and with the help of a friend, she soon finds out what all of the trouble was about. Researching the issue gets her pest extremely protective of its assets and quickly becomes a race to keep Seisa for itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483640440

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by James Bishop III.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2013908784

ISBN:                  Softcover                             978-1-4836-4043-3

                            Ebook                                  978-1-4836-4044-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 10/18/2013

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Six Years Later

Autobiography

Ever since I was a kid I knew that was a little more than a mediocre writer. I started out writing poems. I had become infatuated with the literary devices that were in direct involvement in creating these great structures of art. My quest to write continued on until the present day and my first novel came after writing several short stories. Although they were genius, I still wasn’t completely satisfied with the length and meaning of my stories and my passion to write helped me stay focused and patient long enough to create my first book Seisa.

I was born in Los Angles, but I grew up in Pasadena California. I am the first child born in my family. While my mother was busy working on my team of seven my cousins and me had been busy growing up. I moved around a while and later became grounded in Temple City where I lived for the remainder of my life, created new friendships, went through schooling, Cleminson, Rio Hondo, and high school, the Arroyo Knights. In high school I made the Varsity Wrestling team. Although I graduated from a secondary high school, I still gained my high school credentials. This leap in my life to change helped me make the decision to continue learning, that and my newly acquired love of reading fueled my enthusiasm. I later found myself attending classes at De Vry University. I started on with my Associates Degree in Network Systems Administration in which I obtained recently at the end of 2011. I am 32 years old and still a student. I made working out and eating healthy a regular thing. I enjoy Martial Arts which served as another focus toward my overall goal to sustain. Overall my journey toward my Bachelor Degree in Network Communication Management has also created the full fledge feel for the writers edge, is what I liked to call it.

The night was cold and raining relentlessly. The shadows created by the glow of night stood among the room like puppet-forms of creatures in the night and fragmented by the multi-shaped window patterns there-in that was cast across the room and the top of the bed. The silhouette of falling rain drops dripped in intricate patterns on the bed top and walls on the inside of the room. Flashes of lightening blotted out the dark stains of the dripping shadows for moments before the flashes faded back to their natural light and dripping patterns that played upon the walls. By the reunion of the lightening and the booming thunderclap, the night was serenaded in its opera of bare toned burst. Entranced by the night’s warm glow, Seisa Jacquez was sitting on the edge of her bed, her head cocked back like a wolf baying at the crest of a full moon, yet no sound escaped, mouth agape, staring up at the ceiling, eyes rolling to the back of her head. It wasn’t because she was watching the images of the shadows dance across the stucco of the ceiling, not in wait for a refrigerator raiding, bathroom occupying man, while listening for Mr. Lightening to bellow an octet or two of his rain provoking song. It wasn’t even because she hadn’t been touched by the soothing hand of sleep or sprinkled with some of Mr. Sandman’s intriguingly burdening magic dust, but because she was being possessed by a dangerously powerful spirit, a Poltergeist. Some nights she’d be tossed to and fro in her sleep around her bedroom, smothered while unconscious, to awake exasperated and out of breath lost in the killing sea of living sheets, dragged across up and down the walls of her bed chambers. The other times she’d sleepwalk to awake bewildered, not knowing what had happened to her the night before. She’d only have a vague recollection of her dreams. She wanted to talk about the vague dreams she had with her partner and others, but who would believe such absurd tales of soaring helplessly through the air of her private chambers in dreams. On nights like that one the spirit would be surging like electricity in her veins causing convulsions within her and she’d sit gripped by its torturous torrents. Those she could recall, but only like flashes of Déjà vu, hardly enough to measure against reality, not exactly a topic to discuss with sophistication among mature and very successful colleges.

Chapter 1

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By day Seisa Jacquez is a very successful business partner in an investment firm, Jacquez and Gruman, a company well-known in the world of business. Her clients are mostly overseas, few domestic, nonetheless, there are quite a few. Seisa Jacquez and Marten Gruman gained clients who want to take the money that they had earned or found in large and small business ventures, saving and loans, gambling, even money laundering. The partners would invest the money in booming stocks, real moneymakers. Seisa, Marten, and their employees make a great amount of money in their stock business. Their employees make a solid commission for every client landed, a five-K annual salary, not to include the 50-K Pension with medical, Dental, Vacation pay, severance, and Bonuses. Seisa walked in to her huge glass faced and cinder block building. The lobby decked with the latest in custom furniture, was also loaded with commerce the employees and the like. A cacophony filled the lobby and created an atmosphere of hums in the air. Live plants dressed the furnished areas as well as the pale blue, yellow, red, and green checkered walls in the lobby and hallways. Flat screen TV’s here and there for employee-waiting clients to watch and enjoy. At a Redwood glazed finished desk to the side in front, she was greeted by her lobby attendant, Hillary. Hi Miss Jacquez, Mr. Gruman says to tell you to get the meeting room set up because he’ll be running a little late. It must be the traffic Down Town. Yeah! I know how that can be Seisa replied, reciting from recent memories of having the same problem herself just moment ago. So did the Yomiosky’s call to reschedule or to give any indication when they’d arrive? They said that they’d be flying in and will be here by ten this morning. The very busy Hillary answered while picking up a line on the ringing phone hidden from view just beyond the desk. Seisa started to walk away, but remembered something, turned to Hillary once more and said, Hey? Will you schedule me for a nine-o-clock lunch? I’ll have to take it early. And will you call my twelve-o-clock and arrange them for the following day, the same time? Ok! Will do Miss Jacquez—Can you hold please? She responded while directing some phone calls. Seisa walked away and headed to the elevators. She pressed the button on the wall panel. The arrow button stayed lit until the bell dinged and the chrome double doors slid open. She stepped onto the Maroon carpeted elevator floor, surrounded by walls of fragmented reflection of herself turned to the control panel and pushed the number Ten arrow. The doors closed and Seisa stood waiting as the box heaved upward and expanded the air in her diaphragm. She passed the first eight floors that were run by her department heads, managerial staff, and supervisors. The doors reopened to a grayish ceramic tiled hallway. The tenth floor had three offices. One of which was Seisa’s plush office and the other two were her partners’ office and a large window separating the hall from a large black and white checkered table and twelve black very comfortable looking chairs, and grayish-blue carpet. The walls bare the same-checkered arrangement as the walls and hallways of the lobby, the meeting room. Just on the other side of the table was a large healthy looking plant with autumn red tips that were always freshly watered. The walls flush to the elevator on the inside of the glass room held another but larger flat screen television that was mainly used for the many PowerPoint presentations, chart and graphs, and displays. She walked pass the double all glass doors, with their chrome handles, to stand in between two sets of door. One had the name S. Jacquez in bold black lettering embossed in a chrome plaque attached to the door, the other, the name of her partner Mr. Gruman. Seisa pushed open the double black doors and stepped into her office. On the back wall directly across from the entrance was a wall-sized black finished cabinet that housed in plain view, eleven rows of glass shelves. Each with an arrangement of very intricate and classy decorations, framed pictures, statuettes, small figurines, small artistic sculptures, plaques, medals, medallions, award, credentials and degrees, all some sort of personal item, a memory in safekeeping. The wall to the left, a window, and a view of down town New York and its many skyscrapers and Bulletins, with Venetian blinds pulled half way up. The window itself, with a turn lever, folds open outward stretching toward the neighboring buildings yielding the wind that moved by. Her desk was a series of thick black medal framing with a glass surface area and see through drawers that revealed the content there-in that made it hard for Seisa to forget where she’d put things. The surface was covered with a mat sized calendar, a pencil holder, telephone, some fancy gadgets: computer monitor, keyboard and mouse, laser pointer, remote, walkie-talkies to keep in contact with her employees in the buildings stories below. She also had one of those six-swinging-balls-in-a-frame psychology things too, a pair of black mercury stress balls in a cushioned case, and a thick black swiveling and rolling office lazy-boy chairs. Seisa sat at her desk, grabbed up her remote, and turned on the huge flat screen television that hung like a framed picture decorating the wall in front of her desk. She set it to the channel two news, where Al Roper and his team was standing in Time Square giving the news of the day surrounded by screaming fans. Seisa didn’t look at the screen she just listened to the reports over the loud chants of the surrounding crowd. She picked up her phone and began to check her messages. The machines automated-voice reported there were eleven waiting unheard messages. Seisa, slightly frustrated at the volume of the missed calls, made a comment like talking to some near but invisible person, Why don’t these people call to my front desk? God! I mean that’s what she’s there for! Seisa pressed the option number one to start the message review. The automated-voice starts by giving the time and date of the message then the caller’s phone number and its number in chronological order to other messages waiting to be heard. At a sudden beep, the voice of the caller was a woman’s. Hey Seisa, I called the front desk, the comment made Seisa smile because of her-self talk moments before. But I guess no one was in. Hey, but… Call me… It’s Melinda. Let’s have lunch soon, ok! There was another beep and the automated-voice started its sequence again, time and date, phone number, in which order it started, then a beep. It was Seisa partner’s voice. Seisa, it’s me, Marten. I called you last night. Last night! Seisa thought, but didn’t remember because it must have been during one of her dreaming sessions. Marten’s voice continued. To tell you that instead of going straight to the office, I was going down to Wall Street to do some research and so that you wouldn’t be wondering why I’m not there at the office setting thing up for the Yomiosky’s meeting. Well sis, I got to go. A beep ended the message. She did that several times with the messages, one of her employees called in sick because her child suddenly came down with the flu and vomited in the middle of the class, a client called to congratulate her on a raise in one of the company major stocks that made them some extra cash. The client was whooping and yelling, overly expressing his joy in the message so loud that the small speaker were squealing and could hardly sustain the vibration caused by the clients excited fit. She held phone away from her head a bit just until the yelling ceased then swiveled around in her chair toward the open out stretched window. She twisted the small lever to open the window even wider to get some of the outside air to flow more constantly into the dry room, realizing that the Air Condition System was mal-functioning. Shit, she uttered meekly to herself because she rarely cursed. The damn system is on the fritz again! And swiveled back to the desk and phone and picked up the receiver, messages still playing. She bypassed the messages and dialed the front desk to give an inquiry to Hillary about the Air conditioning problems. HI, Miss Jacquez! How’s everything going? I rescheduled your lunch to nine. The Yomiosky’s are in the sky well over the Atlantic by now and should be here in under an hour or two. Hillary the attendant, said in a systematic robotic tone. Good… Good, Hey! Did you get in touch with the Air Conditioning company guy. The air up here isn’t flowing again. Sure, I’m on it. I’ll ring you when I get them on the line. I’ll get this straightened out. Ok, thanks! Seisa sat the receiver back on its cradle on the desktop. A message had just ended with a beep. The automated-voice informed that it was running message number ten but gave no phone number. A weird wispy ladies voice began to speak. I see your room when you’re seeing them. You’re in a trance, like you’re asleep. They want your vessel to do as they please. Seisa was getting an eerie sense of reality hearing the wispy voice hissing into the receiver in the message. I see your questions. I know what to do, but you have to call me right away Seisa before… My name is Hileta and my number is 694-8564. There was a beep that ended the crazy improper and unprofessional message. The memories like deeply imprinted sublimated messages started flashing in Seisa’s mind, started to come to life. She could see a girl on a swing playing with a little boy who was pushing her as she swung back and forward. She swung too hard and fast and hit the floor. Another flash interrupted that one. A kid was riding a bike. There were lights, bright lights, and then pain. The memories were flashing through her head like a Kaleidoscope, another then another, excavating her brain for the stuttering thought. Seisa snapped out of her trance, came to from amidst the fog. Her hands were so heavy atop the glass surface on her desk that they left a misted haze outline were her hand had once been pressing down on the clear surface. Someone knew, She thought and the thought made her wrack her mind to try and remember the dreams that would reveal a quick answer that would give away the means of her flashing visions, though, she still couldn’t discern what from the dreams were just that verses reality. Seisa started to stress as the recollection dredged on. Because of the feelings she could faintly remember, occupied-sleepwalking is what she called it, Seisa continually got a blast of adrenaline, her heart raced. What the hell was this lady talking about? her mind raced as well.

Chapter 2

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Marten Gruman, a handsome man in his late twenties, a college grad student and the lady’s man, The envy of his associates, had become a partner in a corporation at a mere Twenty-seven years of age and very successful at his career in investing. He was wearing a grey pen strip Armoni suit and some Jimmy Chu’s. He always kept himself clean-shaven; face and head, thick eyebrows and stone grey eyes. Talking on his cell phone, walking away from the Stock Exchange building on Wall Street, He was heading to his car. Hey, honey listen, I got to go. I’m in my car headed to my office. He was exaggerating a little because He had barely met the girl on the phone and was just being himself. Traffic, you know! I’ll call you back later when I’m not on the move. His Car was a black 2009 AMG BMW SUV with black on chrome BBS rims. He pushed the unlock button, one of the four options on his custom remote keys. The driver door opened and the engine started up, idling. He pulled on the door and climbed in the seat. The seat was showing signs of warming and adjusting to Marten’s set positions preferences, options that Marten enjoyed hearing about when He was purchasing the car. He closed the door. Strapping on his belt, he hit the on-star button and shouted in the cab of his vehicle, Office! A loud mechanical voice repeated His request from the many speakers inside the housings of the vehicle. Marten drove off. On the first ring Hillary answered the line. Jacquez and Gruman. How can I direct your call? Hi Hillary! Oh Hi, Mr. Gruman! Miss Jacquez has arrived and I gave her your messages. Your eleven-o-clock with the Dotson Enterprise rescheduled for the following week. Really! Again! That’s the fifth time this week! Oh well… Hey, give me Miss Jacquez’s office please! Ok! No problem Mr. Gruman. Hold Please. The phones hold option was playing music, music which he, in the designing of the phone system, had set for the hold option. He was beating his fist against the leather covered steering wheel to the rhythm of L. Debars Rhythm of the night, driving amidst New York’s Down Town bumper to bumper traffic. Seisa picked up the line right before the last song had ended, Leono Richey’s Dancing on the ceiling, and recycled and was back to the hit by L. Debars. Outside, one of those couriers-on-bikes delivering in-city messages from building to building crossed paths directly in front of the black SUV. Marten, Mr. Grumen selfishly hunk his horn and gave the bike messenger the California Wave. Seisa Jacquez! Who’s speaking? The velvety tinge in Seisa’s voice rang through the speakers of the car and in Marten’s ear. Hey Seisa! Marten! So you finally decided to call to speak directly with your partner, Huh? Yeah, Hey… Sorry about that, but I got some really good information from our friends down at Wall Street! Marten was driving and was looking like he was singing along with his favorite tunes when he turned and noticed someone in a car next to him was staring at him oddly through the passenger window. It was then he realized why, seeing as how he was speaking ubiquitously in the cab of the car. Ok, Well… I going through my calls and I plan on getting the meeting room set up for the Yomiosky’s as soon as I get these calls synced up and scheduled in my books. They called and plan on being in by ten, eleven-ish. Hey we got to really get this one right. They want to invest two-mil on this. So I hope you were doing more than just flirting with them old Cougars down there! Hey… Don’t worry… You know, despite my hang-ups, I always come shining through… Sis… I’m on it, Ok. Don’t worry we got this! Ok! Well hey, I’ll see when you get here. I got a client on three. The phone hung up and made the speaker in Marten’s car all pulsate at once. It made the drum in his ears pop. Marten was three blocks away from the road raging bike courier and traffic was thinning slowly, but he was still several blocks from his building. He fiddled with the dials on the front consul and turned on the satellite radio, then thought it more convenient to do the actions from his smaller and more mobile remote. He turned pass a rap station that was playing a tribute to the 80’s to a News station committed to News on stocks and bonds and happy numbers. The News Caster or radio jockey was going on about how the NASDAQ dropped two points, but was showing a weekly incline that topped off ever week and dropped a point every other week or so. According to the News caster that had been happening for a month or two now, the Dow Jones on the other hand had been doing exceptionally well although. It’s been up three points for the last few days. The partners stocks were doing great. In competition with Opticsoft, The points had been up plus six points for several months. J&G, the stocks name, only dropped a point every other week or so and would be back up again soon after. Marten, Jazzed with the knowledge that his company was still gaining in repetition and still in good standing, turned off the radio. Rounding the corner of his buildings parking garage entrance, Marten waited at the security gate to enter and waved at the security guard in the tollbooth. Marten spoke, Hey Smith! What’s going on today, anything interesting? Marten always did this to his employees, greet them, conversed with them, made them feel at home, but he knew of the humbling feeling of being second to the second in command so he’d try his best to keep it brief to help them save a much needed poker face for business sake, unless of course, they wanted to talk business money stocks or just converse, he’d give them the full tour, the whole layout a winning game plan. Nope, Same old thing Mr. Gruman. The wife and I are expecting a baby soon, Yeah, a little girl. The doctor said when my wife heard that it was a girl the nurses had to restrain her. She got all excited and stuff. So I asked the doctor to prescribe some sedatives. Because I know her, she’s going to be gloating all the time. I wanted a boy, of course, but hey, you can teach a girl how to play baseball, right Mr. Gruman? Laughing at his hysterically funny tollbooth attendant, Marten replied, Hey that’s cool! I wish I had time to have kids. Marten developed a dreamy look in his eyes, looking pass the attendant as he tried to picture his life with one or two kids of his own. He reset his focus on Smith’s face. The myopia that caused a slight stagnant dilation of his eyes cleared and he began gesturing with his hands as he uttered, Hey! Why don’t you stop by my office later when you got time, maybe later today, perhaps, or early tomorrow and I’ll sign a few papers to get you some more money, a rise. The wife and Kid will like that, huh? Hey, thanks Mr. Gruman! You’re the light of my life Sir! I’ll be there!" Smith got excited and was sort of shaking when Marten had done the gracious deed in offering him a rise. Smith presses the button to raise the Bumblebee colored parking lot blocker. Marten thought the tollbooth attendant story touching and funny. He himself never had time for kids or a wife because His nose was always in the books and in more than one girls breast, never kept them long enough to be wives, the poor girls. Marten was always like a ride at an amusement park, before the ride begun there would be a person checking everyone’s straps, shouting instructions like keep your hands inside the car at all time and if anyone wanted off during the ride put one hand over your head and the other over your mouth like this. Then suddenly, just like that the ride would have commenced and your off climbing to extreme heights then dropped and speeding down the track up and down small bumps and incline, but half way through the zips turns ups and quick downs and loopty-loos, you realize that the straps are loose and the only thing that’s holding you in place in your absolute fear and sure adrenaline rushed excitement of what may come next, the fear that you might come free, but before the physical injuries occur that would have done you far more a greater good then the bondless pain of psychological torture, it’s over and the knowledge that you could have died causes you the most pain of all, that you should of but didn’t get off while you still had the chance. Marten made his way up the ramp, up to the top flight to find his parking space with his name stenciled on the little curb right next to Seisa’s pearl stock 2009 Range Rover and parked. He exited and locked his car and strolled to a bridge connecting the parking structure to a fourth story side entrance. The automatic doors slid open revealing a grayish blue-carpeted hallway trailed by busy staff there-in. It was decorated by green plants and multi-colored walls. Four or five feet after the rear entrance were a set of four elevators. Marten stood in front of one set of the stainless steel doors that had a small wall hung marquee in between them. It had office numbers attached to names on it as a directory. He pushed the elevator button and it stayed lit on both sides of the hall. While he waited for the doors to open, his eyes instinctively found his own name and office number. The arrow on the LED panel above the elevator doors pointed to the ceiling, a reminder to anyone waiting that of the selected direction in which the lift was headed. He wanted to go up. One of the doors with the arrows pointed up would open, he knew. He was waiting fumbling with some documents in his hand, knocking them up against his empty hand anxiously. The bell dinged and Marten instinctively turned toward the first door that slid opened on to him. He got in the elevator and pressed the number ten arrow-shaped button in the elevators command panel for floor ten. The bell dinged as the doors slide close in front of him. As the elevator started its ascend, Martens eyes were stuck on the lit numbered buttons in the wall panel as they crescendo toward the double digits. The lights got to ten and stopped the bell dinged once more and the doors slid open to the grey ceramic tiled hallway once again, but at the opposite end of the tenth floor, set in a niche to the left. Marten exited the elevator, strolled to the right about two steps and hung another right. His Chu’s knocking on the tile echoing down the hall and filling the space with its tempo. Standing at the opening of the hall, he could see a sidelong view of the huge glass window at the other end, glistening, and the lights were on. Eager to show his partner the great numbers he’d gotten down at the Stock Exchange, he found himself in between the two office doors, on one side Seisa’s office door and on the other his own. He took a long look at Seisa’s door plaque, pushed on the door, and entered Seisa’s office. The back of Seisa’s chair was pointed toward the open office door where Marten was entering. The coiled phone wire was swaying back and forward with