Episode 1
The Widower
by Jerry Reece
Part 1: Echoes in the Dark
Jadon Jarvis sat motionless in the corner of his apartment, the only light coming from the muted glow of the streetlamp outside his window. The shadows in the room were suffocating, deep and impenetrable, and the silence around him was a constant pressure that made his chest feel tight, as if the very air was working against him. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there; minutes, hours? It was impossible to tell anymore. Time had become irrelevant, distorted, a cruel and unreliable thing ever since that day.
His apartment was a reflection of his mind. Dark. Empty. Cold. The few pieces of furniture that remained seemed foreign, as if they belonged to someone else, someone who had once lived here before everything changed.
The walls, once vibrant with the hints of color he'd painted them in the first years of his life here, were now a dull, uninspiring gray. He had no energy to restore it, no energy to do anything. The place felt like a tomb…a tomb for his own soul.
Jadon’s eyes flickered toward the cluttered coffee table, where a few unopened bills and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey lay. He could feel the gnawing ache deep in his gut, the hunger for relief that never came. He hadn’t eaten properly in days. Sleep was even more elusive. It all felt like a bad dream, an endless loop of pain he couldn’t wake from.
His mind wandered again to that day. The accident. The moment when everything he knew, everything he loved, had been ripped away in a single, brutal instant. The sound of the crash. The twist of metal. The screams. It had happened so fast, so horribly fast. And he couldn’t even remember the details.
But he could remember their faces, their smiles. He could still hear their voices. Why did they even leave the house that day? If only it was him, if only he hadn’t been so careless, so distracted. It’s my fault, he thought, clenching his fists. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it.
His thoughts tumbled, reckless and fast, chasing after one another in a dizzying spiral. He closed his eyes, trying to escape, but the memories swarmed. He couldn’t stop it. He didn’t know how to stop it.
Just a few more seconds. Maybe if he could find the right words, maybe he could go back in time. But no matter how much he tried, there was no way to undo what had been done. No way to bring them back.
The weight of it pressed on his chest, making it hard to breathe. The grief, the guilt, each moment in the aftermath of that day had felt like an endless punishment. Every day, every hour, every minute, he was reminded of what he had lost.
His head dropped into his hands, the sting of hot tears threatening at the edges of his vision. He wanted to scream. To break something. Anything to release the tension, the unbearable ache that had become his constant companion one year later.
But there was nothing. No escape. No answers. Just a hollow, oppressive silence that filled the room.
Then, the phone rang.
The sound sliced through the stillness like a blade. Jadon jumped, his heart lurching in his chest. He stared at the ringing phone for a long moment, not sure whether to answer it. Part of him wanted to let it ring until it stopped, to avoid whatever conversation was about to come. But another part of him knew he couldn’t keep hiding forever.
He picked up the phone, staring at the screen. The name on it made his stomach tighten.
Malcolm.
Jadon’s boss.
Jadon hesitated, his thumb hovering over the green button. He hadn’t spoken to Malcolm in months. What could he possibly say? What could anyone say to him right now?
The phone rang again. Jadon swallowed hard and, with a shaky breath, answered it.
"Hello?" His voice sounded unfamiliar, as if the words didn’t belong to him.
"Jadon?" Malcolm’s voice was low, tentative, but there was something almost gentle in his tone. "Hey, man, it’s Malcolm."
Jadon’s mouth went dry. His first instinct was to hang up, to retreat back into his shell, but something in the sound of Malcolm’s voice made him pause.
"Yeah, Malcolm." His own voice felt thin and hollow, as if it belonged to someone else entirely. "What’s up?"
"I’ve been trying to reach you for a while," Malcolm said, his words deliberate but careful, as though treading lightly on fragile ground. "Look, I don’t know if you’ve been avoiding me or what, but… I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. I haven’t heard from you, man."
Jadon felt the weight of the words. Check in. What could he even say to that? How could he explain how shattered he felt, how broken he was, when he couldn’t even put a sentence together that made sense in his own head?
"I’m… I’m okay," he said, his voice weak and unconvincing.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Jadon could practically hear Malcolm weighing his words, deciding how much to push.
"Jadon," Malcolm said softly, "you don’t have to pretend with me. I get it. Losing someone, losing people, is…it’s hard, man. But you’re not alone, okay? I just want you to know that. We’re here for you. I’m here for you."
Jadon’s breath hitched, a sob catching in his throat. The weight of it, the kindness, the truth of it…it all came crashing down on him at once, and he found himself struggling to keep it together. The world felt like it was closing in on him again, and the grief was there, always there, waiting just under the surface.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jadon whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know if I can keep going. A year later and I don’t know how."
There was a long silence, broken only by the soft sound of Jadon’s breathing, ragged and uneven.
Finally, Malcolm spoke, his voice calm but firm. "You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just… don’t give up, okay? Take it one day at a time. That’s all anyone can ask for."
Jadon swallowed hard, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He could feel the weight of his loss, the grief that threatened to consume him, but for the first time in a long while, something flickered inside him, something small, something faint, but still there.
"I’ll… I’ll try," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I’ll try."
And as the conversation came to an end, Jadon leaned back into the darkness, the weight of his grief still pressing down on him, but with a tiny thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry it alone.
Part 2: The Sound of Possibility
Jadon stood at the window of his apartment, staring blankly at the rain streaking down the glass. It had been a few days since his conversation with Malcolm, but the weight of it still lingered. Take it one day at a time. The words echoed in his head, but it felt impossible to do so. Each day blurred into the next, an unbroken string of fog, where time seemed to mean nothing. He still hadn’t left the apartment much, only to buy groceries or take the trash out.
Then, his phone rang again.
Malcolm.
Jadon hesitated. He’d been dodging his boss's calls for days now, afraid of whatever well-meaning but awkward attempt at checking in he would make. But this time, something pushed him to pick up.
“Hey, Malcolm,” Jadon answered, his voice softer than he intended.
“Jadon,” Malcolm’s voice came through clear and purposeful, “you’ve been MIA for a while. I get it, man. But listen, I need you to come in. We’ve got a meeting. Just a sit-down. It’ll do you good to get out of that apartment for a while.”
Jadon closed his eyes, tempted to decline, to sink back into the numbness. But Malcolm's words were familiar, and there was something in the tone that made Jadon feel like he couldn’t keep shutting people out forever.
“I don’t know, man,” Jadon muttered, rubbing his face. “I’m not sure I’m ready for all that.”
“I hear you. But listen, just give it a shot. No pressure. It’s just a few hours. If you want to leave after that, fine. But come on, we all miss you here. Just come in, for us.”
Jadon exhaled, glancing around his dark apartment, the emptiness pressing in on him. A part of him just wanted to stay buried in the shadows, but he knew Malcolm wouldn’t give up easily.
“Alright, alright. I’ll come in,” Jadon said, a reluctant sigh escaping him.
“Great! See you tomorrow at ten. Don’t worry, we’ve got a coffee waiting for you,” Malcolm responded, and Jadon could almost hear the smile in his voice.
The next morning, Jadon forced himself out of bed, dressed in the same faded jeans and a black hoodie he’d been wearing for days. He didn’t have the energy for anything more. The weather was dreary, with thick clouds hanging low over the city, but the walk to the office felt like a step toward something new, something that wasn’t defined by the grief that had consumed him.
When he walked into the office, the first thing he noticed was the way the staff seemed to brighten when they saw him. His coworkers at the entertainment agency…his second family, in a way…greeted him with quiet smiles and gentle nods, as if unsure how to approach but determined to offer their support.
“Jadon,” Sarah from marketing said, her voice full of warmth as she handed him a coffee. “It’s so good to see you. How are you doing?”
Jadon could hear the concern behind her words, and he gave a weak smile. “I’m getting by,” he replied, taking the coffee from her and taking a small sip.
“Anything we can do? Anything at all?” she pressed.
Jadon could feel the weight of their collective care, but he wasn’t ready to unload. Not yet.
“Just… just keep doing what you’re doing,” he said quietly. “I’ll get there.”
Malcolm walked in just as the small group around him began to disperse, nodding as he approached Jadon with a welcoming smile. “Glad you made it in, man. You doing alright?”
Jadon hesitated before answering, the question feeling heavier than it should. “Yeah. I guess I’m okay.”
“You look good, all things considered.” Malcolm clapped him on the back. “Now, how about we grab some lunch? I know a place around the corner that’ll get you out of your head for a while.”
Jadon wasn’t sure if he was ready for it, but Malcolm’s insistence was gentle but firm. And, honestly, it was better than sitting in the office and pretending like everything was fine. So, Jadon nodded, and they left the office together.
*****
The restaurant Malcolm chose was a quiet, elegant spot nestled in the heart of Soho. Its ambiance struck the perfect balance between sophistication and comfort…soft, warm lighting bathed the room in a golden glow, complemented by deep mahogany tones and the smooth hum of jazz in the background. As soon as they were seated, a server approached with water and the lunch menus, delivering them with practiced grace.
Malcolm picked up his menu, glancing over it briefly before setting it aside. His sharp eyes met Jadon’s with intent.
“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me today,” Malcolm began, his voice calm but purposeful. “It’s about the agency. We’ve been stumbling a bit since we lost you... and Lena Whitmore.”
Jadon tilted his head, intrigued but wary. “Lena?! Where’d she go?”
“She’s at Macro, in L.A.,” Malcolm replied, a tinge of frustration creeping into his tone. “I thought she was happy here. But right after your accident, she just up and left. Now she’s over there, making Charles King even richer.”
Jadon smirked faintly, but Malcolm’s expression stayed serious.
“Losing her was a big blow,” Malcolm continued, leaning back in his chair. “I even offered her a V.P. position, but she turned it down. Guess she saw something in L.A. she didn’t see here. Oh well. Life goes on.”
Jadon nodded but didn’t say anything. Malcolm straightened, his tone shifting to something more focused.
“Anyway, here’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Malcolm said, folding his hands on the table. “The agency’s in a rebuilding phase, and we’ve got a big push coming up. I need you to be a part of it.”
Jadon raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “A big push? Malcolm, I’m just trying to keep my head above water these days.”
“I know,” Malcolm said, his tone warm but firm. “And I respect that. But this isn’t just for me…it’s for you, too. Let me explain.”
Jadon leaned forward slightly, listening as Malcolm continued.
“The agency is shifting gears. We’re looking for the next big thing in music, but not the usual suspects. No more chasing the next pop star or hip-hop phenom. We need something fresh. A new sound. Something global. Afrobeats, Caribbean influences... something that doesn’t fit neatly into the old boxes.”
Jadon’s brow furrowed as he considered Malcolm’s words. “That’s ambitious. You think the market’s ready for that kind of pivot?”
Malcolm leaned in, his voice low and resolute. “Not just ready, it’s hungry for it. And I need someone who gets that, someone with the ear and the vision to find the talent that can deliver. Someone like you.”
Jadon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, what are you talking about?”
Malcolm gave him a knowing smile. “Isn’t your family West Indian? From Barbados, right?”
Jadon blinked. He hadn’t expected the question, but it was true. His father had come from Barbados, though he hadn’t really talked about it much. Jadon didn’t really see how it had anything to do with this.
“Yeah, my dad is from Barbados. Why?” Jadon asked.
Malcolm leaned in slightly, his tone becoming more serious. “We’re sending agents to a couple of countries in the Caribbean, including Barbados, to search for new talent. We’re looking for that ‘diamond in the rough’…the next big thing. The next Rihanna, the next global sensation. And I think you’re the perfect person for the assignment.”
Jadon blinked, unsure if he’d heard him correctly. “Wait, you want me to go to Barbados? To scout for talent?”
Malcolm nodded, his eyes locking with Jadon’s. “Yes. You’ve got the connections, the knowledge of the culture. More importantly, you’ve got the instincts. This could be huge for you, Jadon. I’m not just talking about a regular assignment. I’m talking about being a part of something big. Something that could change the game.”
Jadon sat back in his chair, the weight of the offer sinking in. Part of him felt the familiar urge to retreat, to ignore the potential for something new. But another part of him, something buried deep inside, maybe even the part that had once been full of ambition began to stir. Could he really do this? Could he take a chance like this?
“I don’t know…” Jadon muttered, hesitant. “I mean, I’m still trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces of my life right now. I don’t know if I’m ready to dive into something like that.”
Malcolm’s expression softened, but his voice remained encouraging. “I get it, man. But sometimes, the best way to heal is to give yourself something to focus on. A new challenge. And I think this could be the opportunity you need to get out of that dark place.”
Jadon didn’t know what to say. Part of him still felt unworthy of the chance, as though he wasn’t the right person for the job. But another part of him, one that had been dormant for far too long felt something like hope. It was a tiny spark, but it was there.
“I’ll think about it,” Jadon said slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
Malcolm smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “Take your time, but just remember, opportunities like this don’t come around twice.”
As the lunch continued, Jadon couldn’t shake the thought from his mind. Barbados. The Caribbean. The possibility of something new. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but for the first time in weeks, he found himself wondering if it was something worth pursuing.
Part 3: Unlikely Companions
Jadon eased into the wide, cushioned seat of first class, trying not to think too hard about how much he’d paid for it. This was supposed to be the start of a well-deserved break, his escape from reality. As he adjusted the air vent above him and flipped open a magazine, the sound of a voice interrupted his reverie.
“First time to Barbados?”
He glanced over. Seated next to him was a petite, elderly woman with sharp eyes behind thick glasses. Her silver hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and she wore a lavender cardigan that looked too warm for the flight.
“Not exactly,” Jadon replied with a polite smile, hoping that would suffice.
She wasn’t deterred. “Beautiful island. My daughters are meeting me there. What brings you to Barbados?”
Jadon hesitated, then resigned himself to the conversation. “Vacation. Needed a break.”
“A break? What from?”
He chuckled softly, leaning back. “Life.”
The woman gave a knowing nod. “I see. Life has a way of doing that, doesn’t it?” She extended her hand. “Dorthy Critchlow.”
“Jadon,” he replied, shaking it briefly.
For the next hour, Ms. Critchlow kept the conversation going. Jadon listened more than he spoke, nodding at her tales of visiting the island decades ago and anecdotes about her daughters. Though he hadn’t planned on socializing, her chatter was oddly soothing, and he found himself occasionally smiling at her stories.
Later in the flight, Ms. Critchlow shifted in her seat. “I need to visit the lavatory,” she said, her tone uncertain as she tried to stand. Her knees wobbled, and Jadon quickly moved to steady her.
“Here, let me help,” he offered, holding her arm as she straightened.
“Thank you, dear,” she said, gripping his hand tightly as they made their way down the aisle. Once she was inside, Jadon waited awkwardly, enduring the curious glances of other passengers. When she emerged, he escorted her back to her seat, ensuring she was comfortable before returning to his own.
As the plane began its descent, Jadon caught a glimpse of the island through the window. The turquoise waters shimmered under the sun, framed by lush green surprisingly flat terrain. For the first time in a while, he felt a flicker of genuine excitement.
When the plane landed, the passengers stood and began gathering their belongings. Ms. Critchlow remained seated, her movements slow as she reached for her cane.
“You go ahead, Jadon. I don’t want to hold you up,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Jadon hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ll wait. No rush.”
She looked at him, surprised. “You’re too kind, dear.”
Together, they were among the last to deplane. The moment they stepped out onto the tarmac, the hot, humid air hit them like a wave. Ms. Critchlow fanned herself with one hand while gripping Jadon’s arm with the other.
“Whew! Forgot how warm it gets here,” she said with a laugh.
Jadon smiled. “Definitely not first-class air conditioning out here.”
Despite the heat, there was a palpable energy in the air, an anticipation that mirrored the breathtaking views of the island. Jadon pushed Ms. Critchlow in a wheelchair through immigration, baggage claim, and customs, navigating the crowds with ease. Several people shot them curious looks, clearly assuming they were family.
As they reached the arrivals hall, a well-dressed man approached. He was about Jadon’s age, with a neatly trimmed beard, a tailored polo shirt, white chinos, and leather loafers that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
“Excuse me,” the man said with a charming smile. “I just wanted to say it’s admirable how you’re taking care of your mom.”
Jadon glanced at Ms. Critchlow, who stifled a laugh. “Thank you,” Jadon replied, his tone wry. “She’s quite the handful.”
Ms. Critchlow chuckled. “Oh, don’t I know it!”
The man smiled and walked off, leaving Jadon and Ms. Critchlow shaking their heads at their shared joke.
At the exit, two middle-aged women rushed toward them, their faces lighting up as they spotted Ms. Critchlow.
“Mom!” one of them called, enveloping her in a hug.
Jadon stepped back, watching as the family reunited. He waved off their effusive thanks, saying his goodbyes to Ms. Critchlow with a warm smile.
“Take care, Jadon,” she said, her voice sincere.
“You too, Ms. Critchlow.”
As he turned to leave, he noticed the well-dressed man from earlier watching him. Their eyes met, and the man began walking toward him once again.
Part 4: Connections in the Sun
The man approached Jadon with a casual swagger, the kind that came effortlessly. “Not your mom, huh?” he asked, his grin broad and teasing.
“Nah,” Jadon replied, shaking his head. They both laughed, breaking the tension of the moment.
“I’m Cyrus,” the man said, extending his hand.
“Jadon,” he replied, shaking it firmly.
“Even cooler what you did for that lady, bro. Respect!”
Jadon shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, thanks, but it was nothing.”
Cyrus wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and glanced around the bustling arrivals area. “Man, it’s mad hot out here. And my ride ain’t here yet.”
“It is,” Jadon agreed, pulling at the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt. “But I don’t mind.” He tugged the shirt off in one smooth motion, revealing a fitted shirt underneath that accentuated his athletic frame.
Cyrus chuckled, nodding in approval. “You shouldn’t mind. This island’s a vibe. No place like it. You been here before?”
Jadon shook his head. “technically yes and no. I came here years ago on a cruise but I never left the ship. So you could say, first time. But I did my research, so I’m looking forward to seeing what the next few weeks bring.”
“This place is dope, bro,” Cyrus said, his enthusiasm evident. “Lots to do. I got an Airbnb on the west coast. Where you staying? We should link up. I know my way around.”
“Hilton,” Jadon replied.
Cyrus’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s perfect! That’s near the Garrison Savannah. I’ll be there tomorrow night for the horse races. Hit me up, man. I’ll introduce you to some of my people. It’ll be fun.”
A loud beep interrupted him, cutting through the humid air. Both men turned to see a sleek black car pulling up to the curb. The windows were tinted, but the female driver rolled down her side just enough to catch Cyrus’s attention.
Cyrus’s demeanor shifted as he gave a quick nod toward the car. “Oh, my ride’s here.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek business card, and handed it to Jadon. “Here’s my card. And by the way, make sure your phone’s not roaming. It’s expensive as hell here.”
Jadon smirked, tucking the card into his pocket. “Got it.”
Cyrus opened the passenger door and slid in, but not before the driver leaned forward to get a better look at Jadon. She was a petite figure with smooth dark brown skin, eyes framed by dark lashes, and an undeniable aura of confidence and allure. Her gaze lingered for a beat before she shifted back into her seat.
Jadon watched as the car drove away, leaving him standing in the thick heat of the arrivals terminal. The energy of the interaction lingered for a moment before he shook his head and glanced around, his focus returning to his own situation.
“Now, where’s a taxi when you need one?” he muttered, stepping into the fray of tourists and luggage carts.
As Jadon scanned the lines of cabs, the thought of Cyrus’s invitation stayed with him. The promise of adventure, new connections, and a chance to dive into the island’s culture felt like exactly what he was looking for.
But first, he had to find his way to the Hilton.
Part 5: Arrival and Exhale
Jadon leaned back into the seat of the taxi, his senses assaulted by the constant chatter of the driver. Stories about the island, recommendations for the best rum shops, and an endless commentary on the traffic filled the air as they zipped through the streets. The series of roundabouts they navigated seemed endless, each one twisting Jadon’s internal compass further. Just as he was beginning to question whether they were driving in circles, the taxi broke free of the maze, and Jadon caught sight of the resort.
The Hilton loomed ahead, grand and imposing. Compared to the modest, colorful buildings they’d passed, this was a skyscraper of paradise. Perched on an incline at the edge of a tropical peninsula, it stood as a gleaming beacon against the cobalt blue of the Caribbean Sea. The grounds were immaculate, with vibrant blooms of hibiscus and bougainvillea lining the drive. As the taxi pulled into the long driveway, two uniformed concierges stepped forward, their welcoming smiles as bright as the afternoon sun.
Jadon stepped from the vehicle, pausing to stretch after the drive before slipping the driver a generous tip. The driver smiled warmly, touched the brim of his cap in appreciation, and wished him a pleasant stay. A concierge immediately taking charge of Jadon's luggage and escorting him toward the resort's grand entrance.
The lobby unfolded before him like a work of art. With no doors separating the outside from the interior, the expansive space welcomed the warm Caribbean breeze, creating a seamless transition between nature and luxury. Towering ceilings soared overhead, polished marble floors gleamed beneath the sunlight, and striking contemporary artwork celebrated the vibrant spirit and culture of Barbados. The delicate fragrance of tropical flowers drifted through the open-air lobby, mingling with the salty scent of the sea, while the rhythmic whisper of distant waves completed his first impression.
Check-in was seamless. Within minutes, Jadon was handed his key card and escorted to his room on one of the highest floors of the western wing.
When he opened the door to his suite, he couldn’t help but smile. The space was as luxurious as he’d hoped with plush furnishings, crisp white linens, and thoughtful touches like a welcome tray of fresh fruit and a bottle of rum punch waiting on the coffee table. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one wall, and the sliding doors led out to a private balcony.
Jadon dropped his bags, crossed the room, and stepped outside.
The view was breathtaking. To the right, the tranquil waters of the bay shimmered under the fading sunlight, dotted with sailboats lazily swaying on the gentle waves. To the left, the endless expanse of the ocean stretched toward the horizon, its surface gilded by the warm hues of the setting sun. The sound of waves breaking against the shore below created a soothing rhythm that felt almost meditative.
Jadon grabbed the rum punch, its chilled glass sweating in his hand, and took a long sip. The flavors were bold and sweet, with a hint of spice, perfectly complementing the warm breeze on his face.
Leaning on the balcony rail, he watched the sun dip lower, painting the sky in shades of gold, orange, and magenta. For the first time in what felt like forever, Jadon allowed himself to simply be. No emails. No deadlines. No obligations.
He exhaled deeply, the tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally slipping away.
“This,” he murmured to himself, “is exactly what I needed.”
As the last rays of sunlight gave way to the soft glow of twilight, Jadon lingered on the balcony, letting the peace of the moment settle into his bones. Whatever the next few weeks held, he was ready.
