San Francisco Suite: A Rudy Parsons Story

By Ethan McCaffrey

Rudy Parsons is a private detective who formerly worked for the San Francisco Police Department. He is awakened from a very specific dream to find that the story he dreamt about was based in reality. He takes it upon himself to solve the mysterious disappearance of a young man and finds that the teenager is being transported into a different plane of existence for an unknown mission.

While tracking the young man down, Rudy finds that he is also part of this mission...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ethan McCaffrey
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005307141

Ethan McCaffrey

Ethan McCaffrey writes erotic fiction with a unique perspective - he is a hopeless romantic who spins stories of confusion, longing, and loss. There are no sociopaths in his stories, just regular people who have secret pain and sorrow. These people meet and help each other heal from their pain and make their futures brighter. There's plenty of hot action as well, in service of the discovery of feelings reborn and lives redeemed.

Book preview

San Francisco Suite

A Rudy Parsons Story

Ethan McCaffrey

COPYRIGHT

San Francisco Suite

Copyright © 2021 by Ethan McCaffrey

Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance

to any person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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 systems,

without written permission from Ethan McCaffrey.

Cover Credits:

Illustration by Sharlene Plescia

Photos: unsplash.com canstockphoto.com dreamstime.com

Office Scene: Photo by Michelle Ding on Unsplash

Men Walking: Purchased Stock Image on Dreamstime – Image by Ambroochizafer

Woman and Child: Purchased Stock Image from Canstock (photo82 - #811146)

Pug: Photo by Charles Deluvia on Unsplash

Pocket Watch: Unsplash Image by Andrik Langfield

Published in the United States of America.

A Dream

Forest Knolls

Cole Valley

Haight Ashbury

Western Addition

Tenderloin

Embarcadero

A Dream

Wow, that was some dream….

I repeated those silent words twice after assuring myself that it actually was a dream, and that I had not lived it. I leaned over and looked at my alarm clock - 7:26 a.m. - although I did not know why. I had no steady job, no real prospects, and nowhere to be this Tuesday.

I sat up to finish the small amount of bourbon and water left in the soiled glass on my nightstand and then laid back down, staring at the ceiling. The dream was as brilliant as any real memory in my mind. A young mother sat on the stoop of her small flat in the Forest Knolls section of San Francisco, crying. She held a scrap of paper in her left hand that was illegible from a distance, but was obviously the reason for her distress.

I approached her slowly from her left, but she took no notice of me. I sat next to her and tried to comfort her, but it was clear my words had no effect - I couldn’t tell if she had heard them. She sobbed continuously: Brian...Brian.…

I managed to lift the paper from her hand as she buried her head in her arms. It was typed on San Francisco Police Department letterhead and said the following:

Thank you for contacting us on June 21 in relation to your son’s disappearance. We apologize, but we are unable to assist in the location of your son. Our resources are dedicated to public safety, and there is significant turmoil in the city at this time. All of our force is otherwise engaged.

The letter was dated June 28. Today was June 30.

I folded the letter and placed it at her side. I moved to put my arm around her in support but could not touch her. I didn’t understand it at the time, but thinking back, this was probably my only clue that I was dreaming.

And then I awoke. Buster the pug has never cared about my sleep patterns - he needed to go walkies at 7:30 in the morning, rain or shine. He was so pathetic, whining like this every day, but I couldn’t deny him. I threw on an overcoat and took him outside on this typically foggy morning.

I went over the dream that Buster had interrupted while he sampled the latest smells in the neighborhood. I was struck by how realistic the dream had seemed. It was like I was living the scene, which was unusual for me - I was usually a bystander in most of my dreams. It dominated my thoughts while Buster did his morning business.

I hated dreams like this. I realized that they were metaphors for my own ineffectiveness at solving people’s problems, which is what a detective is hired to do, after all. The romance of being a private detective was all I wanted out of life. I still loved the chase, the moments of realization, and the satisfaction of a job well done, even if it rarely happened.

When Buster and I returned, I unplugged my tablet from its charger and settled in with a mug of coffee to read the