Chapter 1: Beefsters and Puckheads-1
Chapter 1: Beefsters and Puckheads
June 8, 20—
Marlow Street
Floor 3, Office 7
8:00 A.M.
It was a typical spring day in Eastwind, Pennsylvania, next to Lake Erie. The temperature was almost eighty, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Jax Morrison was well-rested, dreaming of Prince Charming—the animated one from the 1950 Walt Disney flick—the night before. Three cups of coffee prepared him for his busy day as a psychiatrist and whatever the good Lord in heaven was going to throw his way.
Most of his patients deemed him a fair therapist. He couldn’t write prescriptions or hand out drugs to his forty-plus patients, but he could give them some reasonable advice and listen to their problems. Jax was twelve years old when he decided he wanted to be a therapist. Dr. Phil helped with his decision, since he liked how the celebrity listened to people, made direct eye contact, and assisted them with their lives. Now Jax was twenty-eight and doing exactly what he had always wanted to do: listen to and help the everyday Joe and Joanne with their lives.
Jax was a ruggedly handsome man with ginger hair, facial hair, a well-built two-hundred and ten pounds, and stood just over six feet tall. Most guys thought him a big cuddly bear, but Jaxford Peter Morrison saw himself more like a white-collar beefster with an ear-to-ear smile. His eyes were his best feature, a light green that knocked men off their feet and caused much wooing from strangers (both male and female) in his life. His lips were soft pink and narrow, better to kiss those wooing men with, he thought. And he wore a size thirteen shoe, which told those who were interested in him that his private parts weren’t puny and could generously suffice in the s*x department, causing a good time in the sheets.
His office was comprised of an assortment of browns and tans. The floor was pine and its furniture was a black leather. Margaret Keene prints, all copies, hung on the walls. He didn’t believe in having a desk because he worked from a tablet, which offered a living room feel for his patients. Three windows overlooked Marlow Street in downtown Eastwind, which was two blocks away from Lake Erie. One wall was covered in paperback novels, which he loaned out to his clients on a regular basis, obtaining a feel and understanding of their likes and dislikes.
