by HN Wake
Odom barked, “He’s looking around?”
“Yes.”
“Looking at faces?
“Yes.”
Odom yelled through the cell phone, “Abort --”
“ — Christ he’s seen me - recognizes me from the loft — “
“ Abort now! Abort now!”
Beam had already hung up.
Manayunk, PA
Mac stepped across the threshold and into the bar.
The small restaurant was fairly crowded. There was an open kitchen at the far end where the bartender chatted with the chef. Deep red walls were crammed with framed reproductions of famous paintings. Was that a Picasso? Yes. La Muse.
At the bar, Joe held his book with one hand while the other slowly lifted a forkful of food to his mouth.
Silently she stepped forward and slipped unobtrusively onto the bar stool next to him. He took another mouthful, didn’t look up.
The bartender noticed her from the other end and she indicted she was in no hurry.
Next to her, Joe continued to read.
Steadily, slowly she turned on the stool so her knees faced him and propped one elbow on the bar. It was an intimate position.
He looked up over his book, eyes widening, then softening.
She smiled hesitantly.
He closed his book and set it on the bar.
She sat frozen.
His voice was gentle. “About fucking time.”
Acknowledgements
This was, without doubt, a collaborative effort. A very special thanks goes out to my editing team who provided substantive input and emotional support throughout: A, K and J.
A sincere, personal thanks goes to those who have and continue to battle for common sense gun control every day.
If you would like to learn more about the gun control debate or the amazing people and groups working to find sane solutions to America’s gun violence epidemic, please visit the novel’s reference page: www.hnwake.com/books.html
www.hnwake.com