Friday, April 5, 2013
Tuesday Tales - Noisy
Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F romantic-comedy, starring my sassy curvaceous society page reporter, Viviana Land, and defenseman for the Philadelphia Wildcats professional hockey team, Alain Lessard.
Today you get to meet Viv and her younger sister Violet. This scene takes place at the very start of the book, after Violet has broken into a spontaneous crying jag.
This week our word prompt is ‘Noisy’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
“Violet, are you okay?” I asked after a nice gust of freshly cut June lawn blew the stink of dirty diaper away. She nodded, tears quietly coursing down her cheeks. I walked over to her, my heels making a lovely staccato on her hardwood floors until I stepped on a pile of spilled Toasty-O`s cereal, then the staccato turned into a soft-shoe. “Yes, you look just fine standing there weeping into your son`s formula,” I said, thinking of leaning on the counter then deciding against it when I saw the grape jam booby-trap someone had set for a woman in an crème skirt.
“I think I need some coffee,” she hiccupped. I brushed a wet strand of long, light brown hair from her damp cheek, removed the whisk from the frothy formula, and then led my baby sister to a seat. She fell into it with a weak sniffle," I`m so sorry, Viv, I don`t know what came over me!”
“I do,” I said over the shoulder of my ebony blazer. “It`s called being a mother.”
“Our mother never cried like this,” she pointed out then gave her nose a noisy blow on a paper napkin decorated with lime slices.
“Maybe she did,” I said adding some sugar and two percent, “Lord knows what went through her mind at times.”
I wasn`t being cruel. Our family is blessed with what we term 'eccentricities'. Those on the outside call it being crazy as a shit-house rat. Mom was a glorious woman, a brilliant painter, and a severe eccentric who ended up leaving Violet and me with our two aunts so that she could move in with a Portuguese woman that made macramé owls for a living. She and the woman broke up but she stayed in Portugal to paint and discover what it was that would make her happy. Obviously it hadn`t been motherhood. She was still searching at age sixty.
We never knew our father but apparently he was a brunette with light green eyes the color of white grapes. Both we girls look like our mystery father while mom looks like Debbie Reynolds in How the West Was Won - minus the gingham of course - with her golden hair and sparkly blue eyes. It had been a lively childhood to say the least living with Penny and Patty, my mother`s sister`s. Lively is a term we use in front of Violet`s kids in place of nuttier than a cashew plantation.
“Well if she did, I can understand why,” Violet murmured as she took the mug of coffee from me with trembling hands. I sat down beside her after removing a small truck smeared with peanut butter from the chair. “There are some days I think I`m losing my mind, Viv.”
“You`re fine,” I calmly reassured her, crossing one leg over the other. “You`ve just got four kids under ten in a six hundred by seven hundred bungalow. My condo has more space and lots less people,” I began rubbing her upper arm. She smiled at the gesture then slurped loudly.
“You know we`re only renting this place while we save for a down payment on a bigger house.”
“I know,” I said. Personally, I didn`t think they would ever get the money saved, despite Chris working two jobs unless my sister had her husband neutered.
“I just need a hand,” she said into her mug, “Someone to help out with just one of the little things the kids are involved in. Could you help?” she asked, turning those lovely light green eyes on me. I faltered in my arm rubbing and glanced down at the dark rose camisole under my blazer.
“Uhm- what did you have in mind?” I asked warily when I finally looked back up from my breasts. “I do have a fulltime job and a fish.”
I know how pathetic that sounded compared to what Violet was dealing with, but we both had made our choices. She got pregnant as soon as her and Chris got married nine years ago and hasn`t stopped getting pregnant. I, on the other hand, chose to give birth to stories for the local newspaper weekly. Society events are far less messy than caesarian sections and episiotomies.
“Could you serve as Clara`s Queen Bee over the summer?” she asked, lashes spiked with tears, eyes watery, lower lip trembling just a small bit. If she thought that would work now like it did when we were kids, she was in for one rude awakening. I flicked a fast look down at my black pump, looked at my slim gold watch, and then stood up while telling Violet I would be happy to be a Queen Bee for the summer.
I`m such a miserable push-over at times.
“Thank you!” she glowed so brightly I feared the varnish on the beaten cabinets might be blasted off by the solar light. Violet leaped to her feet, hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek.” You are a real life saver, Viviana! Be here tomorrow at eight to pick the girls up.”
“I do hope you mean eight at night, not eight in the morning.” I drew back from the woman who smelled strongly of dog, baby vomit, and dollar store strawberry shampoo. Oh but did she laugh merrily at my statement while leading me to the front door, her arm around my waist after she set her mug of calming juice on her kitchen table beside a robot that turns into a car.
Copyright ©by V.L. Locey
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See you next week when we meet our leading man.