Snippet Sunday – Hard-Boiled/Noir WIP – August 2, 2015

Snippet Sunday is a Facebook group for writers I’ve been privileged enough to have been accepted into.

From the group guidelines; “Welcome to Snippet Sunday, where writers come together to share a few sentences of their current project–whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.”

This week’s snippet picks up where my last one left off.

Jed has just uttered the line, “You can only push a man but so far.”

(I’m busting the limit to get out of this scene!)

“Fair enough,” I said. I wondered who pushed him harder– her or me. “What’s Marisa’s feeling on this?

He looked at me like he didn’t like the sound of her name coming out of my mouth, then took a hold of the edge of the table and hauled himself out of the booth.

“Ask her when you find her,” he replied.

“She hasn’t turned up?”

He took a couple of steps toward the exit.

“Keep the cash if you’re gonna do the work,” he said. “Leave it with Beau if you’re not.”

He marched out of the bar, leaving the heavy door to swing closed behind him. It stayed open long enough to admit a wisp of warm, briny air.

I eyeballed Jed’s money again, then glanced at the small crowd assembled at the bar. None of them bothered to pretend they weren’t staring at me.

I picked up the pile of bills and counted it. Thirteen hundred bucks.

Marisa had asked me for help the night before. Jed didn’t have to pay me thirteen hundred dollars to go find her.

I brought the money to the bar.

“Hang on to this for me, will you?” I asked Beau.

“You on the job?” he asked as he took the cash from my hand.

“Still thinking it over.”

I gave him a twenty of my own to cover my dinner, then turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t pay Jed much mind if I were you,” said Beau.

I stopped with the door half open.

“He’s just tryin’ to get a rise out of you is all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, drying a pint glass that didn’t need to be dried. “She’s usually pretty choosy about which drifters she shacks up with.”

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