Wolfpack: A Novel by Alex Montoya

Copyright © 2017 by Alex Montoya.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017905704

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-5434-1545-2

   Softcover   978-1-5434-1544-5

   eBook   978-1-5434-1543-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 04/26/2017

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Contents

Dedication

Wolfpack: Introduction

Chapter 1 Almost Paradise

Chapter 2 Bea Happy

Chapter 3 Action Jackson

Chapter 4 Jenn with Two N’s

Chapter 5 Springing Forward

Chapter 6 An All-Star Summer

Chapter 7 Vegas, Baby

Chapter 8 The Fall

Chapter 9 Crisis

Chapter 10 New Beginnings

Dedication

Dedicated to my families in Colombia and the United States

and to my Wolfpack.

Wolfpack: Introduction

A lot can happen in a year.

This novel was created after a particularly tumultuous year experienced by some friends and I. We lost love. We lost jobs. We lost hope. But what struck me was what we still had: each other. Although we weren’t necessarily friends because of our losses – my Wolfpack in San Diego, like most groups, had different ways of meeting each other – we absolutely carried each other through tough times.

After realizing the special bond we had formed, I asked each of them if I could base a character on their experiences. Each one said yes and I promised to change enough things to where no reader could properly identify which character was based on which real-life person. Such a caveat is necessary in beautiful San Diego – at once it’s a large city and a small town.

The Wolfpack paradigm is based on the New Millenium film trilogy, The Hangover. Those characters proudly identify themselves as a Wolfpack, so much so that it became a part of American pop culture lexicon. The similarities to the film end there, however (minus one chapter occurring in Las Vegas).

But since we’re on the subject of American cinema or celebrities, when you read this novel, you can imagine the primary characters as follows:

Fernando Guzman – Enrique Iglesias

Katie McDonald – Gwyneth Paltrow / Reese Witherspoon

Teddy Jackson – Taye Diggs

Liz Wong – Lisa Ling

Jenn Holtz – Margot Robbie

Jack Murphy – Michael Rappaport

If you know those actors, great, but if not, even better – you can envision the character in your mind’s eye. Aside from those imaginative guides, each character was 100% created as fiction, a composite of various people I’ve known.

Some cities and famous people and landmarks and establishments are real. However, the narratives are all fictitious, as is each storyline. In other words, I didn’t see any of this with my eye, only my mind’s eye.

Thank you to the I-CAN Center, a computer lab for people with disabilities in the downtown branch of the San Diego Public Library, and to Xlibris Publishing, for providing the platforms for my creativity. Thank you to my Father above, and to all my family and friends, especially my Wolfpack, for supporting this endeavor. This is my first, after three self-help books, novel. I do hope you enjoy it.

Keep Inspiring,

Alex Montoya,

Author

Chapter 1

Almost Paradise

Fernando & Katie

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

The room erupted with laughter, a mixture of gleeful mirth and good-natured groaning.

Oh, come on, be serious! pleaded Katie, placing the palm of her hand on her boyfriend Fernando’s sweater, a combination of a love-tap and stern admonishment. The sweater wasn’t just a sweater, it was of the Christmas-ugly-sweater variety, complete with a Santa Clause stitched onto the chest, pulling on several reindeer, Rudolph’s nose and Santa’s outfit adorned in bright red fabrics. And Fernando wasn’t just Katie’s boyfriend, he was her fiancée.

Okay, okay, okay, okay, Fernando said in rapid-fire speed, I’ll make a good toast. This is serious, this is serious.

Katie rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine.

Wait, don’t drink yet, Fernando said, I have to make a toast first!

Well get on with it! Katie responded, in a more agitated tone.

Come on Freddy, you can do this. The verbal encouragement came from somewhere in the crowd of partygoers assembled in Fernando and Katie’s downtown San Diego condominium. Being called Freddy actually startled him. It was a nickname he’d owned since childhood but it suddenly dawned upon him that he hadn’t been called that in his home in months.

Since…when? Since that magical night in Disneyland, almost one year ago, that he knelt in front of the Sleeping Beauty castle and proposed?

Was that weird that Fernando noticed Katie hadn’t endearingly called him Freddy in months? Was that a bad thing? Why would he even take note of such an anomaly?

Well, no time to reflect on that now. This was their Christmas party – I don’t want the invitations to say holiday party, Katie had emphasized, it’s a Christmas party – in their apartment, overlooking the canopy of blue skies, a glittering bayside and endless supply of gleaming daytime sunshine and evening stars buffeting the horizon. He had asked her to move in after six months of dating but she answered with an abbreviated but strong Beyonce dance routine, saying in sing-song fashion that If you like it / Than you shoulda put a ring on it.

So he did. At Disneyland on a chilly winter night. She ecstatically said yes. Now they were co-residents. Hosting a Christmas party for 20 assembled, tipsy, raucous guests, bedecked in blazers and cocktail dresses, nary another ugly sweater in sight. Katie noticed that too, and expressed her annoyance with Fernando’s attire earlier in the evening.

He raised his wine glass aloft once more, bellowing: "It was the best of times! It was the worst of times! But through it all in 2015, you’ve been there with us. So here’s a toast, to you….

to us….

and may you wake up feeling….

like you’ve been hit by a bus!

Salud!"

Saluuuuuud! The room burst into a cacophony of glasses clanking and voices cackling, Fernando’s impromptu twisting of Dickens eliciting great laughter.

Fernando laughed too, forgetting to toast the glass of the fiancée next to him. That increased her displeasure and she sighed as she took a sip, and then a gulp, from her goblet.

This is ridiculous, she thought to herself, I need to step outside for some fresh air and get away from these immature animals.

What Is Your Problem?

Katie grabbed a coat that was hanging near the front door, before she realized she didn’t even know if that was her jacket. Oh well, she thought, I actually just need to step outside for a few minutes so any coat will do. Glancing behind her to see if Fernando was trailing – he wasn’t – Katie threw on the tan pea-coat and strode toward the apartment door. Closing it behind her firmly, she continued her strident pace down the hallway that led to the elevator.

A man was walking in the opposite direction, the DING of the elevator indicating he had just exited it. Walking past each other in the narrow hallway, their shoulders brushed. They both said the same thing: Excuse me! Except he, an impeccably dressed African-American gentleman, said it out of genuine concern and slight embarrassment. Katie’s excuse me was brusque, an acknowledgement that she had bumped him but not really an apology.

That didn’t sit well with him. Instantly he asked, Hey, what is your problem?

The words stopped Katie like a fire alarm or a DO NOT ENTER sign. She halted. Spinning around to face her inquisitor and tossing her blond hair aside, she took two steps closer to him.

Excuse me? she repeated, except in question form.

The man was surprised. So he re-stated his question: What IS your problem?

Katie chuckled and looked down at her expensive Jimmy Choo high heels. She then looked intently at her sudden hallway companion. Clearing her throat, she asked, Uh, what’s your name, sir?

Teddy, uh, Ted. Ted. Jackson, he stammered.

Oh. Teddy? Ted? Mr. Jackson? replied Katie, clearly relishing the man’s surprising nervousness, Do you wanna KNOW what my problem is?

He had asked but now he didn’t want to know. Teddy could tell this was not a rhetorical question. The feisty blonde was going to respond anyway.

Do you wanna KNOW what my problem is? She edged closer to him.

I’ll tell you what my problem is, Kate intoned, digging a well-manicured finger into his silk blue tie. My problem…is….MEN!

With that she spun back around and walked angrily to the elevator. Teddy Jackson stood still, awkwardly, until he could hear the simultaneous DING of the elevator and the lady’s high heels clasping against the floor, indicating she had entered the elevator. The doors closed with a WHOOSH.

Wow! he exclaimed, before lowering his voice to a whisper. "White women!"

Shaking his head, he walked away, to his apartment down the hall and around the corner. On the way he passed what sounded like a lively party.

A man stepped out, suddenly blurting, Hey! Did you see a…?

Teddy smirked. Pointing to the elevator entryway, he replied, Yeah, man. She went THAT way. Good luck with that.

The elevator doors opened and immediately Fernando saw what he thought he’d see and hoped he’d see. Katie was near the edge of the building’s rooftop, leaning against a small wall that allowed her to rest her elbows on it and gaze into the glitter of the stars and downtown lights.

Don’t jump, Fernando chuckled.

With an exasperated sigh, Katie quickly turned to face him and then turned outwardly to the city again. How did you know I was here? she asked.

Well, a guy in the hallway told me you took the elevator, he explained, "and I know this is, like, your happy place so….wait….are you smoking?"

Quickly, Katie removed the cigarette from her lips, as if her father had