Insurance Date (eBook)

A Wild Action Comedy About a Suicidal Cop, a Neurotic Salesman, and Murder

Chris Nordstrom (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
380 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-0052-9 (ISBN)

Infos

She wants to die. He's terrified of death. Together, they might just survive.

Chris Nordstrom is a writer, business owner, and entrepreneur originally from Sweden who turned struggle into story-literally. Starting from humble beginnings, including a period of homelessness and challenges working in the U.S.-he persevered to become a U.S. citizen and a self-made success. He holds a degree in Commercially Targeted Story Development from the People's University in Sweden, where renowned lecturers like Michael Hauge and Billy Mernit inspired him to chase his storytelling goals. His passion for comedy led him to further hone his voice at UCB Theatre in Los Angeles. Chris is endlessly curious about political philosophy, sociology, and high-concept story development-and how humans use stories to survive, adapt, and connect. His favorite genres include action thrillers, dystopian thrillers, and action comedies. Committed to pushing boundaries in both his professional and literary pursuits, Chris writes stories that entertain, provoke thought, and offer a fresh, unconventional look at life. When he's not with his two kids and partner-in-crime, he deals crypto, does comedy, and jogs barefoot on the beach.

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When Marion, a suicidal LAPD policewoman with weight issues, buys a life insurance policy from Cal, a neurotic salesman terrified of dying, neither expects their lives to spiral into chaos. Marion is secretly investigating the murder of her friend, tied to a violent motocross gang-and Cal just realized her "e;accidental"e; death could bankrupt his already-failing insurance company. Desperate to keep her (and his business) alive, Cal gets dragged into a wild investigation across Los Angeles. The two form the unlikeliest of crime-fighting duos dodging bullets, uncovering secrets, and maybe even saving each other in the process. Fast-paced, darkly funny, and unexpectedly heartfelt, this action comedy is perfect for fans of chaotic buddy comedies, messy characters with something to prove, and love stories that bloom in the middle of disaster.

Textauszug

MARION’S LAST DAY?

It was early morning in Los Angeles, and the gloomy grey sky made a perfect backdrop for the black crows perched on the city’s beloved power lines. Much like its trendy vegan food, Los Angeles had a distinct smell in the fall, with whiffs of jasmine and homeless umami. It’s a city where people are always late, even when they are on time. It’s a city that blames everything on traffic: from missed job interviews to late lunches, bad haircuts—even pregnancy.

And so the serene atmosphere on early mornings, when the people are recklessly oversleeping and the streets are quiet except for the occasional A/C unit humming in the distance, is to die for. However, some people do not enjoy these quiet mornings. Some people’s lives are always hectic no matter what, whether they’re in a hostage situation or lounging under a palm tree on a tranquil beach, pinching a martini between their fingers.

Marion busted out of a doughnut shop towards her police car, located across Highland Avenue in Hollywood. Her hands were full of guilt, carrying a fresh-baked chocolate-covered pastry in one hand and a coffee in the other. Without looking, she stumbled down some stairs in a frenzy and began crossing the road when screeching tires cried from a white Range Rover coming at her.

Still in motion, Marion jumped and rolled her two-hundred-pound self over the hood, securing the pastry with both hands in the air where it would remain safe, and landed on her feet in the middle of the road.

The driver, a forty-year-old suburban mom in a vegan t-shirt and a thousand-dollar haircut, stuck her hand out the window and yelled.

“Defund the police!”

Marion raised her brown fist in the air, trying to inspire some hope in the White woman and her kids, who angrily peeled out and away, already late to work and school drop-off.

She continued crossing the street to the sound of screeching cars, protectively carrying her breakfast as she nonchalantly walked up to her police vehicle. Despite being in a hurry, her uniform was pristine, and you could tell she took her job seriously. She jumped into her cop car, took a bite, and flipped on the sirens.

“Go, go, go!” she screamed with a mouth full of pastry as she peeled out.

The forty-something Black policewoman’s rigorous exterior had been thinning with years full of riots, loneliness, and failing weight management. She considered herself plump on good days and fat on bad days. Yet, deep down, she knew what mattered most was that she loved herself; still, some validation, from anyone, wouldn’t hurt.

She was an avid poster on Instagram and Facebook but rarely got any likes. Most of her social media friends had come from high school or community college but had begun unfollowing her the day she became a cop some fifteen years ago.

The George Floyd riots didn’t help either, and because she was a cop who had taken a vow to uphold the law, many users, or so-called social media friends, either unfollowed her or bullied her with fat jokes.

But she had one manic dream. To become a detective with the LAPD.

Marion drove through traffic as if life or death depended on it. Bursting out of an alley, she veered onto Hollywood Boulevard. She quickly over-corrected the steering wheel at the last second and dodged a fuel truck by an inch. But it wasn’t over. Heading straight for a few more blocks, Marion grabbed another bite of her doughnut and placed it on the dashboard.

Suddenly, a group of tourists, distracted by the Hollywood sign, jaywalked into the road with wide eyes and soon to be broken dreams. Marion made a turn so sharp that the vehicle accidentally popped onto its two wheels and sped around the corner. The car barreled out of control towards a gated entrance with a yellow boom with a banner that read, “Welcome to the Hollywood Police Station.”

As Marion frantically tried to get the car back down on all four wheels, the doughnut rolled across the dashboard and disappeared out the window.

“Oh gosh, that’s so fucking sad!” she screamed and followed it with her eyes when—

A loud SP-DUNK! echoed as the car ricocheted off the curb, spinning in a one-eighty mid-air over the yellow parking boom.

She crashed down on all fours, car intact.

Unfazed by the tumultuous event that had just taken place, she backed into a parking space, checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror, and got out.

The guard by the entrance booth stood mindlessly numb, trying to fathom what had just occurred when a group of detectives sucking on vape pens came running outside.

“What the fuck, Marion!” Jack, a real asshole of a detective, screamed.

Jack Callahan was the chauvinistic son of the chief of police, wore sunglasses on the back of his bald head, and got first dibs on everything. He attended the police academy the same year as Marion, the same class in fact, and had since excelled within the LAPD thanks to his mother.

Marion put her hand up to his face as she passed him.

“Not now. I got a test to take,” Marion said and hurried to the station entrance.

“Don’t starve, Marion. The test is an entire hour long!” Jack taunted behind her.

“I wish it was longer, like when women see your pickle,” she yelled back to the laughter of the detectives as she entered the station.

She rushed down the hallway towards a sign that read “Detective Exams.”

Just as the door closed, she stepped into what looked like a classroom full of other officers and gave her ID to the classroom attendant. She looked at the clock, which most likely had hung in the room since the nineties, as the minute hand ticked past 5:30 a.m. on the dial.

“Just in time, Ms. Anderson,” the attendant said and closed the door.

Marion sighed and smiled.

“Sorry. Lots of traffic this morning. People are crazy.”

“Good luck this time,” the attendant said unsympathetically.

A week had passed since the hectic day of her exam, and Marion was experiencing a much more peaceful morning. The late autumn gloom hovered over Hollywood as Marion pulled up to the station and stopped in front of the yellow boom with a doughnut in her mouth.

“You sure you don’t want to jump over?” the guard said sarcastically and pointed at the boom before raising it for Marion.

She pulled in carefully, letting the guard “talk to the hand,” and parked the car.

Marion stepped into Homicide, a room full of desks and detectives working on their phones and computers. This was her dream. She took it in, along with the sweet sugar scent oozing out of the pastry box, which she clung to with both hands, when a side comment made her snap out of it.

“Wobble wobble!” Jack yelled as she came walking.

“Shut up!” someone yelled from a desk by the window.

This was Marvin Jones, or Marv, as everyone called him. Marv was in his mid to late sixties but looked older, thanks to the grey stubble on his joyous face. As a detective, he stood two ranks above Jack, but had life been fair, he would have been captain, or even chief.

“We don’t talk to no people that way in here,” he continued with eyes the size of saucers.

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied and lowered his head.

“How you doin’, baby girl?” Marv said with a humble smirk.

Marion’s face lit up, revealing her big white teeth, bleached solely for Instagram photos, hoping to find a good man one day.

“Marvin! So good to see you,” she said and sent him an air hug. “Doughnut?” she asked.

“No, no, I’m good, I’m good,” Marvin said and tapped his heart.

Marion leaned over his desk and took her voice down a notch.

“Hey, thanks for the recommendation letter. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be getting nowhere in this place.”

“At least I tried,” Marv empathized.

Marion took a step back and tucked the hair behind her ear.

“Oh, I see. Tried,” she said, unable to hide the disappointment on her face.

“I’m sorry. I thought you heard already.”

“Let me guess, I passed the test?” she asked.

“You passed the test.” Marv nodded like there was something good there.

“I failed the interview?” she mumbled.

Marv slowed down his nodding and bit his lips together.

“That bitch,” Marion said under her breath.

“Oh, hey now, she might be cruel, but she’s got a soft spot,” he continued, referring to Chief Callahan.

“Then she’d let me in,” Marion countered.

Marv chuckled kindly with a pinch of concern.

“Marion, you have got to work on yourself. You can’t blame the world. You’ll get nowhere.”

“What have I got to work on? Huh?” Marion said, to which Marv raised an eyebrow.

An awkward silence grew when Marv suddenly got the glimmer back in his eye, tilted his head, and pointed at her.

“Oh, baby dear. I know you know. Besides, you got time. You’re young.”

Marion had no clue what he meant, but to maintain his pride in her, she pretended like she did.

See, Marv had taken Marion on, not as an official partner but as an unofficial mentor, from the very first day that her plump legs entered the Hollywood station some fifteen years ago. Sure, one could argue it was because she was Black, and quite frankly, at...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 8.10.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-0052-9 / 9798317800529