So, I changed the title. I think this one goes better with the story. You'll understand more later on in the story.

Chapter One:

Chris Brown reapeatedly pressed the tv remote buttons until he had flipped through all 200 channels. Nothing was on tv that would remotely interest a 24 year old single man. He wasn't surprised, it was Saturday night. Tv programmers figured that most men his age was rather out on dates or having fun with his singe friends. Single men his age definitely didn't sit at home alone in front of the tv on a Saturday night restraining the urge to throw the remote across the room.

Chris glanced at the silent phone that rested on the sofa cushion next to him. It meant that he was once more in trouble with the various women in his life. Jennifer was mad because he hadn't called when he said we would. Sheila was angry with him because he called her Liz. Liz was mad because she saw him on a date with Jennifer.

Chris finally turned off his tv, then roamed around his living room windows. He definitely gnored the men and women walking on the street below his third floor apartment. Judging from the noise and traffic on the street that drifted through his open window, everyone in San Fransico was doing something except him. He strolled to the kitchen and opened the fridge door.He stared at the half-empty contents, although he had memorized 20 minutes ago when he last looked in the fridge. He slammed the door and prayed for the phone to ring. He would talk to a telemarketer, bill collector, anything to relieve the bring stillness of his apartment.

Suddenly, he heard a females voice fill the air. Another ear piercing scream followed, and Chris identified it as his next-door-neighbor's apartment. Adrenaline raced through his body as he sprinted into his bedroom and grabbed his off-duty gun from the drawer of the nightstand. He ran out of the front door and down the hall where he pounded on Lexus Alexander's door.

He didn't expect or wait for an answer, he kicked the door open. Wood flew one way as the door flew the other. In one smooth movement that was worthy of te silver screen, Chris dropped to the floor and rolled into the apartment, coming to one knee with his gun pointed directly at the person who stood in the junky living room.