The Brothers Gilmore (devo)

[James Gilmore]

Stardate: 96027.44 (June 25, 2018 - 8:00 AM)

In life, James Gilmore was a man who tried to tolerate certainaspects he found to be complex.

Morning wake-up calls, however, weren’t a part of that process.

Inside a 10th floor suite at downtown LA’s famed Westin Bonaventure, he awoke to the ever-so-annoying sound of a hard knock on his door. To him, it meant two things...either a special delivery or big trouble. As he hasn’t exactly been getting any goodies from the mailman these days, trouble was all the Islander alum could assume. “Oy…,” he muttered to himself, trying to bury his head back in his pillow. “I wanna get some sleep…”

But the knocking persisted.

Grumbling, the Islanderalum slowly outstretched his arms before rising to his feet. He’s had several sleepless nights within the last few days, thinking about the possibility that, perhaps, his brother Jonathan could very well be alive. He didn’t want to believe the subtle hints he’d been given, first by security and spiritual guru Ottoo and then, oddly enough, by an attractive-looking Amazon worker. As he slogged his way to the door, the knocking still prevalent, two questions came to mind:

Was it real?

Or was it fake news?

James, with just a tinge of disbelief in his eye, opened the door to reveal Otto...and someone else with him. The latter was clean shaven, sporting a retro-style Dallas Stars shirt and blue jeans. “Hi Otto. Just visitin’ or droppin’ off?,” the Islander alum slurred a bit, still in the process of waking himself up.

“Both,” the grunted tone in Otto’s voice taking hold. “He says he knows you by name, but...I’ll let you two get acquainted.”

The longtime guard walked on down the hallway, leaving James staring straight at his 6’1”, 245 pound guest. The vibes in the suite turned from gentle to somewhat tense as the two gentlemen never lost eye contact with each other, opting to let the moments speak for itself. "Can I help ya, dude?!,” the ex-Islander asked sheepishly.

“Gee whiz, what the hell happened to you Jimmy-boy!?!,” the stranger quipped, his dry sense of humor showing. “You look like Charles Manson calling Mike Tyson a sissy!”

“Wait a sec, how’d ya know my name?! We don’t even know each other,” James said, perking up his right brow.

“Ahh...but we did! Who woulda thunk it, huh?! Your long-lost brother, comatose for fifteen years, is alive and well, and now he's come to the rescue of a lost soul known as my dear 'James Jefferson.' Ain’t that a trip, huh?!,” the man said with a slight chuckle. This left James aghast, for he took two steps back and grabbed his iPhone. He searched far and wide through his photos until he found the right one, and upon closecomparison between the picture and the man standing before him, the ex-Islander suddenly stood like a statue, almost unsure of how he was going to process things...

“Johnny…?”

James was left soft-spoken, almost to the point of speechlessness. Yet the bland wit and unmistakable charm that was--or is--Jonathan C. Gilmore would eventually shine through.

“Tell me I ain’t dreamin’. Is it really you...!?!”

Johnny gave a slight, yet jovial wink before nodding his head. The Brothers Gilmore, after a decade-and-a-half, were reunited. Yet ‘Jimmy’--James’ second nickname behind his initials--still didn’t feel whole.

Something--or someone--was still missing in his life.

TO BE CONTINUED…