A DOLLAR FOR THE DISTANCE / BIFO. #3

A DOLLAR FOR THE DISTANCE



“Die rich, then buy your way out of hell“, was printed on the back of the business card. The name on the front simply read RANDALL ROBERTO ROBERTS.
Randall Roberts liked his name in bold, block print. In his mind, it showed power and prominence. This was great. He delighted in living up to the slogan on the back. He wanted anyone he did business with to know, he was all about money, no favors, no games, no jokes; just money. If you did'nt have enough, he didn't want you in his circle.

“I don’t care if you have to sell your mother, get this deal closed!”
Randall hissed into the telephone before he slammed down the receiver. Ignoring the others in the room, Randall stood and walked to the window in his office over looking down town.

In a genuine southern accent, he barked over his shoulder, “Jason.”

Jason Artist a man of forty eight, had no need to shave his head, he was completely bald by his thirty second birthday. Slightly over weight, he carried his two hundred seventy pounds, well on his six foot six inch frame.

Randall R. Roberts, being a foot shorter, did not bother to turn and speak directly to Jason, as he gave his order. Using a tone that left no doubt he was angry, Randall shouted, “I want to know who leaked this deal. Do whatever you have to do to find out, and don’t take forever to do it. Now, all of you, get out of my office.”

The three people attending the meeting stood to their feet. They gathered their belongings and quickly left his office. No one wanted to be in that office, in case Roberts had not finished his angry outburst of threats and accusations.

When his office door closed, Randall turned from the window. Seeing the empty office, provoked even more anger. The thought that someone inside his company had been leaking information to his competitors, caused the veins on either side of his head to ache. Talking to no one but himself, Randall resumed the conversation he was having before the meeting.

“It’s impossible to run this company with this bunch I have employed. I should never agreed to using a head hunter to staff this new operation.”

As he took a seat behind his desk, Randall R. Roberts did'nt notice the difference in his glasses, laying on his desk blotter. As he had done a million times before, Randall donned his glasses.

The beautiful, shining lady, seated in one of the two antique Queen Anne chairs across from his desk, was so much of a surprise, Randall R. Roberts, nearly tipped his swivel chair over.

“Who in the… “

The words caught in his throat as he viewed his unexpected guest. She was not, “a run of the mill“ person. He couldn't help but notice, she had a beautiful glow, and was as equally beautiful in appearance.

“Who are you? What are you?”

Reaching up to remove his glasses, Randall became even more confused. With the glasses removed, Betty completely disappeared. As he again started to place his glasses on his nose, Randall noticed the glasses were not his own. Searching his desk top, he could not find his own glasses. Deciding he had no choice, Randall again donned the strange glasses.

Betty was slightly amused by Randall's antics, when he realized he was not wearing his own glasses. She gave him time to ponder her presence.

When Randall could see her again she said, “Hello Randall. My name is Betty Marie Jackson. Before you speak, or rather in your case, start barking orders, it would be wise to listen. At one time, I was living on this earth. Now, I am a spirit. I was sent back to earth to help where and when I was needed. The glasses you are wearing are mine. To anyone else, the glasses will appear to be yours. Between you and me, wearing those glasses is the only way you can see me, or hear me.”

Randall sat on the edge of his chair and listened intently until Betty finished. Keeping his eyes fixed on the chair Betty was sitting in, he removed the glasses.


With the glasses off, Randall viewed the floor to ceiling book cases. He saw the rich mahogany paneling, the thick plush carpeting, the beautifully covered leather sofa and chairs. What he did not see was Betty. He then realized he had no choice. If he wanted to communicate with the spirit, he had to wear the glasses. Randall returned the glasses to his roman nose.

Regaining his composure, somewhat, Randall said, “ Ah, so what can I do for you? “

Betty knew Randall's persona. She knew of his under handed deals, and his shady accounting practices. She knew about his illegal activities, and she also knew about his affairs with women, single or married. She knew his first concern was how much money he could make. Or how much power he could gain. He had no consideration, whatsoever for his soul.


“You’ve been a bad boy Randall. You have accomplished a lot, usually at the expense of other people, and you've caused others a lot of pain. The pain and trouble you caused, and the trouble you, yourself are in, is the reason I am here.”

“The trouble I'm in? I haven’t caused any trouble, and I'm not in any trouble either!"

The office door opened.

Adrian, Randalls’ administrative assistant, cautiously stepped into his office. She had distinctly heard her boss’s last sentence. From the doorway she could see he was alone, and not talking on the telephone.

“Mr. Roberts, here are the files you wanted. I’ll just put them here on your desk.”
Adrians’ confusion and concern mounted, when Randall did not acknowledge her presence, or make any attempt to touch her. Touching Adrian was one of his customary habits. Instead, Randall stared at one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Mr. Roberts, are you alright?”

“Yes. I heard you. Just put them on the desk and leave. I’m busy.”

He had forgotten, he was the only one who could see Betty. Betty did not remind him.

Adrian placed the files on his desk, then returned to the door. At the door she looked back. Randall was still watching the chair. Closing the door behind her, Adrian suspected another outburst. Her boss was acting very strange.

Betty had remained silent while Adrian was in the office. When the door closed, she spoke again. “You’ve been so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t know when you are mistreating people, do you? “

Randall, still seated behind his desk fought the desire to engage in conversation, but was unable to resist.

“Who do you think you are? I don’t have to answer to you. I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

“Oh really? That is where you are wrong, sir. You will answer to someone sooner or later, and that someone is God.”

Randall, becoming more irritated with his guest, began to raise his voice.

“I guess you are going to tell me all about heaven and hell now. Right?’

Betty showed no change in her expression, such as Randall could see.

“Randall, don't make light of things you do not believe in or understand.”

Randall growing anger with her telling him what he may or may not believe,again forgot he was talking to a spirit. The argument was underway.

“Do you think you can just pop into my office and tell me how to start living my life? Where were you and God when I was dead broke? Where were you when I was a child and my old man was beating me? Where were you and God when my wife was sleeping with half the town, while I worked my fingers to the bone? Don’t you sit there and lecture me on morality. From where I sit, I wouldn’t give you a dollar for the distance between heaven and hell.”

The sunshine that filled the skies suddenly disappeared. A large black cloud filled the once sunny space. As if sent for a reminder of who is in control, lightning struck the lightning rods, on top of the building.

“What do you want? You want some of me too? Huh? Huh?” Randall shouted toward the ceiling of his office.

Betty, now standing, moved toward the window. Looking up to the heavens, she prayed for Randall. Her prayers served only to buy Randall a little time. Having received her instructions, she returned to the conversation with Randall.

“You have made your beliefs quiet clear. Now you listen to me. God was with you in every situation and every difficulty you have ever experienced. You chose to attempt to carry your burdens alone. Now you want to blame God for your bad choices. You chose the life you live, and you will face the consequences for your choices.” Betty relayed the message she received, while praying.

“I don’t need you, dead or alive.” Randall shouted.

The office door burst open. Two armed security men charged a few steps into the office before seeing there was no one else with Randall. Their charging entrance startled and surprised Randall momentarily distracting his attention away from Betty.

“Mr. Roberts, is every thing alright here, Sir?”

Randall had a wild, angry look in his eyes. One of the security people had seen that look in his eyes only once before. He knew Randall could be extremely dangerous when he looked like this.

“What do you want?” Randall screamed at his security people. Standing at the end of his desk, with his fist clinched and pressed down on top of the desk, Randall looked as though he was ready to pounce on the Queen Anne chair across the room.

“Mr.... Ah.. Mr. Roberts, your shouting was heard down the hall and we thought you might be having a problem.” The younger of the two security men said.

Slamming his fist down on the desk, Randall shouted, “When I need your help, I’ll tell you. Now, get out of my office. All of you, get out of my office. Now!”

Adrian, being curious, stuck her head into the office. With the thunderous voice she had become somewhat accustomed to, Randall screamed, "All of you, get out of my office."

Betty had already left.

When Adrian and the two security men left, Randall refocused his attention on the Queen Anne chair where Betty had been seated. Nor was she standing by the window. Taking a panoramic view of his office, Randall saw she was not there. Considering this as a victory, Randall began to laugh loudly. “If I can win an argument with the dead, I can win any argument.” To celebrate his victory, he wanted a lunch date.

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The YMCA is a great place to get and keep yourself in shape. No one noticed the middle aged man walk in with his gym bag. He looked like every other middle age man fighting the signs of aging.

Walking pass the lobby, he entered into the locker room. One watching him would assume he knew where he was going.

Glancing over his shoulder, to insure he was not being followed, the nondescript man turned and walked quickly to locker number, 215. In seconds he was in and out, carrying what appeared to be the same gym bag that he carried into the locker room.

In his car, away from prying eyes, the gym bag was opened. From the bag he removed four thick envelopes, and a scribbled note.


"Cover your tracks," was all the note said. He found twenty-five thousand dollars in each envelope. Smiling, the stranger started his car and steered back into the traffic. He was pleased with the job on hand he must accomplish.

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At 2:30 p.m., Randall R. Roberts informed Adrian he was going to lunch, and would not return for the remainder of the day. He considered not that Adrian had a family occurence that required her attention. She had asked for the after noon off. Instead she was handed a to do list that would take all afternoon, and possibly her working overtime.

Pleased with himself, Randal left his office in a giddy mood. He was happy that he had not seen Betty before lunch. “Argue with me. No one argues with me, unless I want them to.” He thought as he stepped through the back door of his office.

Taking the service elevator, Randall removed his cell phone. It was time to make his call. Pressing one number on the touch pad, brought up the name and number he wanted. As he exited the building, the number began to ring.

A soft and slightly annoyed female voice answered. “Hello.”

“You busy for the next hour?” Randall asked as he turned the corner, walking down the street.

“I have appointments for the rest of the day. You can’t just call me up and demand I jump at your command!” She hated herself for what she had gotten into with him, and she hated him.

“I can and you will. Be there in twenty minutes.” No please, no thank you, no goodbye, Randall disconnected.

Thinking as he walked , “Another female telling me what I can’t do. If I say jump, she better start jumping. Who does she think she is? I own her. Playing her games with me, is not a good idea. One phone call, and she’s divorced and out on the street. I own you girley, and your husband. I think it’s time to educate you. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do today, educate her.” Standing at the corner, Randall looked to his right, Betty was standing next to him.

“You call what you are about to do, fun? You are going to finish destroying another marriage? Which according to records, you have already destroyed fifteen directly, and another dozen or more indirectly. Change your ways, change them now. Your time is short.”

Pedestrains passed in all directions as the light changed. Some glanced at Randall as he stood, looking to his right. The light changed three times before he looked away from Betty.

Holding up his palms, as if to stop someone from speaking, he crossed the street. To anyone noticing, Randall appeared to be talking to himself.

Using a piece of electronic equipment specially designed to intercept cell phone calls, the middle aged man listened to the cell phone call from Randall to his "special woman." He had learned the location of the secret lovers nest. Parked only a block away from Randall’s office, the stranger knew he had less than fifteen minutes to get to the point he needed to be, to cause the accident. Driving his sedan into the shopping mall parking lot, he quickly spotted what was needed to complete his actions.

For the next two blocks, Randall stammered on, “ I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I own this town, and my soul is doing just fine. That's my decision, now leave me alone.”

Betty refusing to be silenced said, “If you lose your life today, Hell may be what you have earned. Do you want to risk that?”

“As I said before, ‘I wouldn’t give you a dollar for the distance between Heaven and Hell. That is, my decision. Now get away from me!” Randall, across the street from the four star hotel, could see his sex toy enter the front door of the hotel. He was determined now, more than ever, to not be bothered by Betty Marie Jackson. He had an idea.

“If I can only see and hear you with these glasses on, then I do know how to shut you up.”

As Betty said, “Don’t take ….” Randall removed the glasses and placed them in his jacket pocket.

Having what he needed, the stranger proceeded quickly toward the hotel. He knew he only had minutes before the opportunity would pass. Allowing nothing to delay him, his actions and reactions were skilled and precise. In minutes, he had the hotel in sight.

The young woman stopped in the lobby of the hotel. She attracted no ones attention. She appeared to be trying to make a decision.

“I don’t care anymore. He will no longer use blackmail so he can use me for his sick sex games. I'll reveal my true past to my husband tonight." With unsteady legs, she turned her back on the lobby and exited the door she had entered only moments earlier. From the covered entrance, she could see the intersection. She could also see Randall at the corner.

“Silence. Just the sound of traffic.” Randall spoke to the open air as he stepped off the curb at the corner. He knew Betty could hear him, but he could not, and would not hear her.

Crossing the four lane intersection, Randall was accompanied by four people. Two people three feet ahead of him, two people four feet behind him.

The stranger saw the other pedestrains.He also spotted Randall as he approached the intersection. Accelerating, he ignored the light when it changed to yellow. With his target insight, he held the accelerator to the floor.

Randall, without his glasses, could not clearly see, anything a hundred feet away. He did not see the oncoming rush of the vehicle. Nor, did the others in the crosswalk. In a split second he heard the blast of car horns and sliding tires.

From the covered entrance, Randall’s special victim watched as he stepped off the curb. Her heart began to sink and her determination quickly began to melt. “I can’t hide this for ever. I can’t keep doing this, just because he knows my past. I can’t keep living this lie.”

She watched as Randall crossed the halfway point in the cross walk. The horns blowing, and the sound of sliding tires brought her from her thoughts and startled her. From her view she saw the four people dive in different directions to avoid the city bus, barreling through the intersection. She watched as the city bus hit Randall, and carried him a few feet before gravity dragged him down and under the tires.

Initially horrified, she ran only a few steps toward the scene before realizing her secret had just died with Randall. Stopping, she stood on the sidewalk and looked at the carnage. Randall, was lying in the street. With bitter sweet emotions. she turned and walked in the opposite direction. She would not stay around for the police report.

The impact took him out of his shoes and off his feet. Still conscious, Randall looked into a face with eyes full of evil. To his surprise, the driver looked, surprisingly familiar to him. The driver smiled as Randall slipped down and under the bus.

Randall was not spared the impact, or the crushing weight of the bus as it rolled over him. As he lay on his side dying, he could see his wallet lying open in the street. The wind caught a dollar bill, and carried it down the street. He then saw his glasses lying open near his face. In his fleeting moments, without the aid of the special glasses, he heard Betty praying in his behalf to the Master.

As Randall Roberto Roberts slipped away his final thought was, “Will God listen?”