[Writer’s note: What began as a writing prompt — photo and first paragraph — has become at least the start of a story. I will endeavor to add short sections to it, at lest as long as there is some interest. It might be a little rough in parts, but that’s because it is coming “hot off the press,” which could be part of the fun of it. In the meantime, you are free to jump off from any part of this story thus far and write your own version. Click Holly’s Corner below to get Parts 1 – 3.]
by David E. BookerI brushed my hands together and only managed to smear the mud in one palm on the other. My pants were wet. So was my rain jacket and baseball cap. I brushed my hands down the sides of my jacket and then stepped inside Holly’s.
Plans were for me to meet my new client here. We had only talked on the phone. I had no idea what she looked like. I stood inside the doorway, dripping on the concrete floor. Holly’s had once been a bar called The Corner Lounge, then a used bookstore with a poster of Cormac McCarthy and the words “McCarthy for President” underneath it. Rumor had it that McCarthy used to visit The Corner Lounge when he lived in Knoxville. Now all that remained of the Lounge was a dark, curved wooden bar where you placed your food orders. McCarthy probably didn’t hang out here on the infrequent occasions he came back to town.
“Hey, are you looking for me?”
I pivoted. Water flew off the bill of my ball cap and hit a woman squarely in the eye. She flinched.
“Tricia,” she said as she rubbed her eye. “It’s usually the second date before I let the guy poke me in the eye.”
“Technically, it wasn’t a poke.” Another rivulet of rainwater ran off the bill of the cap. This one fell harmlessly to the floor.
“You going to argue with a client?”
“I haven’t introduced myself.”
“I saw the rolling pin woman through the window. I couldn’t help but laugh when you dived into the mud.”
I felt a little heat come into my ears.
“How cute,” Tricia said, her eyesight back to normal.
“Glad I could entertain.”
(To be continued.)