About the writer who couldn’t make up her mind?
Here’s choice number two. Remember, raw work here. When I’m working on story ideas or when a scene jumps into my head I just type, I don’t put in character descriptions or a lot of emotion unless it “appears” in my head. When I’m done, then I go back and fix all of that, plus word repetition and the like. So this one, like yesterday’s, is just the basis of a story. I just need to figure out which one to work on – yesterday’s post or this one. Tomorrow we’ll return to our regular scheduled programming.
Chapter One
“I’m not going.” I can’t dance, don’t ask me. Skye clicked yes in response to the computer prompt, balancing the phone between her left ear and shoulder.
“I don’t care if it’s a date with George Clooney.” Well, let me think about that. “What do you mean improper command? I’ll show you improper command. Not you, Jude, the computer. Idiot machine.”
“I’ll have you know that’s a state of the art piece of machinery.” Jordan Sinclair walked out of his office and dropped some files on the desk.
“It’s a piece of crap. Not you Jude.”
“If you weren’t so hard on it ...”
Skye reached up and patted the monitor. “Oh pretty baby, you’re a sweet little thing aren’t you ... work you sucker!” The pat became a whack on the side of the screen. Chuckling,
“Okay. Here’s the deal. You find me a mister gorgeous to go with, and maybe I might consider a trip to
“Hello Jude.”
“
“Why would I want to go to the huff and puff bragfest? Just to see who’s had a boob job, or whose hairline is enhanced by hair club for men? I’d rather have a root canal with no anesthesia.” The computer let out a series of beeps before the screen went black. “You sorry piece of .... NOT YOU JUDE! We’ll talk about this later. I think I just committed computercide.” Hanging up the cell phone she dropped it in her purse and began tapping a finger on the desk, its staccato increasing with each passing second. She looked up to see
“What did you do to my computer?”
“I didn’t do anything. It committed suicide.” By now, her finger had worked up to the theme from 60 Minutes.
“You always do that.”
“What?” Frustrated, Skye blew at a piece of hair that had come loose from her tight bun, only to have it flop back inside her glasses.
“Tap your index finger when you’re agitated.”
“I’m not agitated. Not even close to agitated. I’ve gone past agitated. Between you, Jude and this damn computer, I’ve gone ballistic. And now the Pink Lady is after me to go to this stupid reunion! That’s the tenth time she’s called me since yesterday.” Reaching down into the trash can she retrieved the discarded invitation and laid it on the desk. “‘The forgettable class of too many years ago is getting together for a must-to-be-missed reunion. The last wingding in the gothic revival behemoth before it’s retired to that great fossil graveyard in the sky.’”
“Don’t forget the town’s sesquicentennial. Major doings in Satchel next month. Anyway, the school wasn’t that bad of a place. I have some fond memories.” Leaning over, he plucked the invitation from in front of her.
“You mean of the dark corners where you’d grope your latest nubile air-head?”
“They weren’t all air-heads.”
The theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey drifted from Skye’s purse.
“I think Hal’s calling.”
Skye fished the phone from her purse and noting the caller, dropped it back the bag. “Jude. Why can’t she take no for an answer?”
“I know the feeling. This high school reunion thing is for the birds. Venicia has called me three times this morning.”
Laughing, Skye swung around in her chair. “Ah, the lost love of Satchel High. How is good old Venie?”
“Scared of a little girl, huh big guy?”
“Little girl, my ass. So, I don’t want to be on the meat market. What’s your excuse?”
“They think I’m a lesbian.”
“That was a long time ago. No one thinks you’re a lesbian now.”
“Skye’s a lesbian?” a dark-haired man asked as he came through the office door.
Skye threw her hands up in disgust. “Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against lesbian’s, but I’m not one.”
“But you just said you were.” Ross Sinclair stood next to his brother.
“No I didn’t,
Ross arched his eyebrows at his brother. “When did Skye become a lesbian?”
“Fifteen minutes ago. Me and Martha Washington’s been going at it for years.” Men, now she had two idiots to contend with.
“That I would like to see.”
Skye gave Ross a pointed look. “Pervert.”
“I’m not the lesbian who’s having a fling with a dead woman.”
Skye swiveled around, planted her elbows on the desk and buried her head in her hands. “I’m not a lesbian.”
“I didn’t say she was a lesbian. I said they think she’s a lesbian.”
“Who does?”
“They do.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Third base.” Skye pushed back the chair and stood up. “Satchel’s annual shindig slash sesquicentennial celebration. The founding fathers and Satchel High elite are throwing this two weeklong boorfest to celebrate a dying town and a soon to be demolished gargantuan. I don’t want to go because of those rumors that started in my senior year and chicken liver here is afraid of the big bad Venecia. Caught up?”
“You mean the things Todd Bishop said?”
Skye looked at
Shaking his head,
“Son, the only shortcoming I have is you. But I will go to my office because you two are lunatics.” Turning, he walked into his office, firmly shutting the door behind him.
“Chicken liver?”
Skye circled the desk and began unplugging cables from the back of the computer. “Help me with this. I’ll take it home and see what I can do with it.”
“You’d better fix it. If Molly returns tomorrow and finds out you’ve murdered Abby ...”
“She named the computer Abby? And you think I’m weird?”
“Speaking of weird, heard from your brother lately?”
“Yeah, he called last night. Maxie’s after him about this reunion stuff.”
“That’s her name. What do you want me to call her ... Fred?”
“It may sound a little old fashioned, but whatever happened to good ol’ mom?”
Skye snorted and dropped the cables into her bag. “Maxie is anything but June Cleaver. Besides, it’s not new age-ish enough. I’m lucky I don’t have to call her Rainbow anymore.”
Skye paused and glanced up into hazel eyes that sparkled and always managed to make her stomach flutter. “What else would a 60s hippie caught up in a time warp do? Bring out a non-mainstream fad and old Maxie’s on the bandwagon.” Walking out into the hall, she waited for him to clear the threshold before closing the office door. “RJ Investigations” gleamed from the newly installed doorplate. “Family won’t let you use Sinclair?”
Skye moved to the bank of elevators. “Nuhuh, Maxie’s into the karma stuff, I just like to see your muscles bulge and tremble. Why is Ross’s initial first?”
“Because JR was too close to a smarmy TV individual that wouldn’t instill the greatest trust in the company, brainy girl.”
Pushing the down button, Skye waited for the doors to open. “Sheesh, you haven’t called me that since seventh grade.” Her cell phone began to ring as the doors swooshed open. Pulling the phone from her bag, she flipped it open as she stepped onto the elevator.
“I don’t know about Ken, but I did have a GI Joe. Would that do?”
As Skye stood looking at him, blue eyes wide with dismay, the elevator doors closed.
But if I must choose...
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