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    The Doorman (a Novelette)
    The Doorman (a Novelette)
    The Doorman (a Novelette)
    Ebook52 pages57 minutes

    The Doorman (a Novelette)

    By Zack Love

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    About this ebook

    Alex seems to have it all: a great penthouse apartment, a lovely girlfriend, and a prestigious Wall Street job. But below the surface he is sure of nothing but his angst-ridden doubts. And when he realizes that his doorman may be God, or sent by God, he will question things like never before. 

    This novelette is a story of New York doormen, tormented love, empty office life, and the theological questions that arise in response to the horrors of evil.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZack Love
    Release dateMar 23, 2015
    ISBN9781507010662
    The Doorman (a Novelette)

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      Book preview

      The Doorman (a Novelette) - Zack Love

      A Novelette

      ––––––––

      by

      ––––––––

      Zack Love

      ––––––––

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be resold or transferred to third parties except as otherwise permitted by the licensed distributor from which you acquired this ebook. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for that person. If you are reading this ebook but did not buy it or receive it as a gift from someone who bought it for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy.

      Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      ––––––––

      This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Published by SQ Publishing

      ––––––––

      The SQ brands (SQ Publishing, SQ Calculator, etc.) are trademarks of Zack Love.

      www.ZackLove.com

      ––––––––

      Cover design: Author Ker Dukey

      ––––––––

      Copyright © 2014 Zack Love

      ––––––––

      All rights reserved

      PART I

      I had always been an atheist until I met Lenny. He was too wondrously complex and good for there to be no benevolent and intelligent force behind our marvelous cosmos. Lenny gave me the actual proof my fiercely skeptical mind had always demanded. Not some logical, 37-step proof of God’s existence. It was a personal proof. And it was irrefutable. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

      In the beginning, there was life. My life. I was the center of the universe. My own consciousness was the only thing of which I could be certain, and hence the only thing that undeniably mattered to me. There was my Mac, my favorites, my buddies, my cell phone, my hairline, my MP3s, my Yahoo, my shampoo. My myness was both new and old: there was my new penthouse, my old shoes, my new job, my old friends, my new diet, my old habits, my new colleagues, my old girlfriend, my new emptiness, my old soul, and my new girlfriend.

      When the broker first introduced me to the cooperative apartment building on 59th Street and Fifth Avenue, and the battery of white-gloved doormen rushed into door-opening formation, I thought to myself, The rich can put even chivalry on a payroll, and realized just how nouveau riche I would be in this elite milieu. I had sold out of the dot-com boom in December of 1999, after a lucky premonition that the bubble would soon burst, and early enough for my stock options to cover the down payment on a cozy alcove studio in 777 Fifth Avenue. The address definitely had a heavenly ring to it. And buying that apartment seemed like a sound investment and an official part of my transition to the white-shoe world of Wall Street banking. I wanted to make mounds of money in that world – to live the good life and give my parents pride and more financial support. But I wasn’t so sure that this goal (or the lifestyle and choices it required) would make me happy. I was, however, anxiously eager to find out.

      On February 7, 2000, the morning of my first day as an equities analyst, I awoke at 5 a.m., put on my best suit and tie, and just paced around my apartment for two hours. I had been living there for less than a week and was still excited about my new home and the other big changes in my life. At 7 a.m. sharp, I rang for the elevator. Serge was on duty. The other doormen had warned me that he was a bit of an alcoholic, but perfectly harmless. His constantly crooked collar and disheveled coiffure stood out in sharp contrast to the pressed doorman’s uniform he had

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