Snippet Sunday – Hard-Boiled/Noir WIP – January 10, 2016
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.
Marisa and Jake are in the bar. So is Marisa’s ex. The ex seems to be keeping a close eye on them…
Marisa and Jake have just toasted to running into people they don’t want to see, wherever they are, and she has just remarked that she’d rather run into people she did want to see…
We clinked glasses again, then sat there and nursed our beers through a solid song and a half.
Cigarette smoke, pushed around the room by a lonely ceiling fan with a Sisyphusian task assigned to it, settled in pockets above and around us.
I sneaked another peek at the corner booth.
The skinny guy in the aloha shirt was still there. Marisa’s ex was not.
I tracked him making his way to the pay phone on the back wall, next to the head. He glanced our way when he got there, then turned his back, picked up the receiver, and dropped a coin into the slot.
“You keep looking,” said Marisa. She let go of my hand. “Maybe you’d rather hang out with him.”
“What I’d rather do,” I replied, “is get out of here without a brawl.”
“I told you,” she said, rolling her eyes, “he’s nobody. Never really was, Jake.”
“I’m not convinced he agrees with you on that.”
She shook her head, looked up and down the bar, then grabbed me by the front of my shirt and kissed me. I grabbed the edge of the bar to steady myself with one hand and slipped the other around her waist.
The human need for air forced her to break away.
“What the hell are you doing?” I sputtered.
“Escalating the situation,” she said. “You seem bound and determined to have it out with Jed. May as well get it over with.”
“I won’t start a fight.”
“Well, now you won’t have to.”
The man she referred to as Jed leaned against the wall next to the phone, watching us as he struck a match and lit another cigarette.
Beau was watching us too. He’d stopped wiping glasses and was no longer chatting with his patrons. I couldn’t help but notice that his right hand rested on the phone. I couldn’t see his left.
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