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 sports romance, starring my sassy curvaceous society page reporter, Viviana Land, and defenseman for the Philadelphia Wildcats professional hockey team, Alain Lessard.
In today`s excerpt, Viviana spends some time with her two eccentric aunts after the old gals put their motorcycle in a ditch.
This week our word prompt is ‘Train’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
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I stalked back to my car, dug out my cell and called my mechanic, Greg. I was guaranteed the tow truck would arrive within thirty minutes. So, now I just had to sit with the two disgruntled oldsters until their ride was back on the road.
“Let`s go sit in the shade under that oak tree,” I offered, bringing a slightly warm bottle of raspberry flavored spring water with me. I got the old gals situated and rehydrated and then sat myself down between them. Both the women had rosy cheeks and sweat-beaded brows. “So, aside from Goldfinger, what`s up with you two?”
“The newspaper boy threw the paper into the rain gutter yesterday,” Aunt Patty told me, her back stiff yet. I nodded. That was a recurring problem. I`d have to call Brad in circulation and complain again. I took the bottle of water, gulped a few mouthfuls and then handed it to Patty, who was now up on her knees with her back to her sister and me. I read the back of her t-shirt and nearly died.
“Aunt Patty! What the hell kind of shirt is that for you to wear?!” I looked up and down the road in mortification. Patty sat down roughly after getting Jasper the one-eyed beaver situated in a clump of tall weeds.
“I fixed it,” she harrumphed and snapped the bottle from my hand.”I wrote ‘don`t’!”
“Yes, but simply writing ‘Don`t’ in pen over the ‘Eat a beaver to save a tree’ message isn`t really making things any better!” No wonder those teenagers had gotten such a hoot as they drove past. Dear God above. “Do you even know what that means?”
“Of course I do, Viviana! I`m not a nincompoop! It means some terrible people out there want folks to eat beaver! Imagine such a thing,” she mumbled and drank greedily. A knot appeared between my eyebrows that would be there for days I feared. “So how goes things with you and that good-looking coach?”
The sudden shift in conversation shouldn`t have stunned me. They do it all the time. Yet this time I had to inhale deeply and ponder before replying. Somewhere in the distance a train whistle blew.
“Things are actually going very well,” I said, finding a grasshopper leaping into the middle of Plantation Road quite fascinating. I tucked my dress over my knees as they rested against my breasts. “I think I may be . . . well, there are complications,” I added as the impending deadline for my article hovered in front of me. “I really like him, Alain that is,” I explained and looked at both of my aunts. They bobbed their heads in understanding. “I mean I really like him. I think I might have fallen for him. But there`s this damned article I`m supposed to write. A real in-depth expose sort of thing that will make me a common name when the story breaks,” I paused to inhale and watch the grasshopper make another leap down the white line.
“The story is about Alain though, and at first it seemed easy. Just flirt and have fun and maybe get a good roll then when I had enough dirt, turn it over to Frank. But now . . . now it`s not simple at all,” I hugged my thighs closer to my chest.
“What happens if you tell this Frank to shove the article up his poop-chute?” Aunt Penny asked in a horrible British accent.
“I lose my job, my condo, my car, and probably my fish. I am just meeting my monthly bills.” I stared at the grasshopper so blithely hopping along in life with nary a care in the world. “If I don`t do this I will lose all credibility and will never be able to find another job at any other paper. Frank will make sure of that. He can be a vindictive prick when he wants to be.”
“If you love Alain, why don`t you just marry him?” Aunt Patty asked, dribbling water into Jasper`s closed mouth. I turned from that spectacle to find my green grasshopper cleaning his antenna mid-road.
“Because I`m an independent woman. I`m not marrying a man just to keep a roof over my head,” I stated firmly.
“But Viviana, honey, that job won` t keep you warm at night.” Aunt Penny told me then began humming ‘God Save the Queen.’
“She`s right. I think you know what you need to do,” Aunt Patty`s gnarled hand came to rest on my shoulder. I smiled at the grasshopper as she rubbed in tiny circles just as she had done when I was a kid and came home with a conundrum. “Honesty is always the best policy. Just go tell your boss you can`t turn traitor to the man you love.”
Amazing how the “batty” ones could sometimes see with so much clarity. The arrival of a bright green tow truck sent the gals into a suspicion fest that wouldn`t end for at least a week. Violet and I would be getting calls about GM and Ford trying to infiltrate the engine of the Indian with all their advanced computer shit. The phone calls from old women with conspiracy theories would be okay though. Once I got back to Alain`s farm house things would be super.
I`d confess that I had tumbled hopelessly in love with him, we`d make love all afternoon and night, and then tomorrow morning I`d walk into Frank`s office and tell him that I could not in good conscious submit my article to him or the paper. I`d get fired, yes, but I`d be taking a moral stand. And besides, I would have Alain at my side, proudly holding my hand.
As I waved goodbye to the tow truck and my aunts forty-five minutes later, I was on top of the world. It had become a skippity-doo-da sort of day! I glanced down at the white line for that grasshopper. Hell, maybe he`d sing me a song about taking the right road or wishing on a star like his famous cricket family member had. I found the poor bastard flattened right on the white line. Guess they`ll be no song from him today.
Copyright ©by V.L. Locey
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