Angela walked around me, inspecting my backside. “First of all, your butt doesn’t hang — thank God — and no, it won’t.”
I walked to her full-length mirror and then turned around, doing my best to see my rear. I pulled at the hem, checking the length. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“You can, and you will. I’m not letting you wear my dress over jeans.” She opened the box and handed me a pair of black four-inch ankle-breakers.
I pulled the straps over the backs of my heels and examined myself in the mirror.
Angela popped her head over my shoulder. “You should wear cobalt blue more often, Jana. It looks good on you.”
“Dick hated blue,” I murmured.
“Dick was a fool,” Angela said in response.
I huffed out a breath through my nose as I tried to hold back the tears. Not once had Angela said anything like, I never liked Dick or You’re better off without him. She’d just kept her opinions to herself and had been a shoulder for me these last few months. Even now, she didn’t call him names, she’d just pointed out the obvious: Dick was a fool. And he knew it too, at least I assume he knew it since he’d tried repeatedly to come home. But I just couldn’t do it. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get the idea of him having sex with another woman out of my mind. And I knew that I never would be able to.
I lifted my head, attempting to dry my eyes. “Thank you, Angela.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I love you, cuz.”
“I love you too.” She pulled back. “Now, go have fun, but be careful. Call me if you decide to drink.”
I smiled. “I downloaded something called Uber. It’s supposed to be pretty easy. If I use it, I’ll call you to go pick up my truck with me tomorrow.”
Angela flashed a half smile. “I know what Uber is. My husband uses it a lot when he’s out of town on business. Says it’s easier to use than most taxi companies — and cheaper.”
I rested my hands on my hips. “How is it you always know about this stuff before I do?”
“Because I’m almost a decade younger than you. My generation grew up with all these new gadgets as you old-timers call them.”
“Oh, right.” I twirled and inspected my reflection in the mirror again. “Are you sure?”
“You look hot! Go have fun. Don’t think about meeting anyone, just dance and enjoy yourself.”
Every time I tugged at the hem of my dress, the famous words of Richard Gere from the movie Pretty Woman flashed in my head: Stop fidgeting. He’d been right, of course. Nothing detracted from what a woman was wearing — or trying to wear — than when she continued to yank on it … because she knew it was too short or too low cut.
In the case of the dress I was wearing, it was both. Whenever I hitched up the dress to cover my cleavage, I immediately had to check that my rear was still covered. Regardless, I heeded Angela’s command. As soon as I heard a familiar song, I headed to the dance floor. By the second chorus, I had most of the steps down and had all but forgotten the length and cut of my dress. After all, what did I care? I was single. It’s not like I had anyone who would be offended. Actually, even if I were still married, it wouldn’t have mattered. Dick had always asked me to dress sexily, especially when we were going out.
Since I was no J-Lo, though, I constantly tripped over my own feet and stepped on a few others. Thankfully, most people laughed it off. Those who were wearing cowboy boots, that is.
By the third dance, I was laughing myself silly, but I was in love … with dancing. I’d been so concentrated on my feet that I didn’t have a chance to see if there was anyone cute around me. I was also parched, though. I quickly remembered why I could eat and drink anything I wanted when I was in college … dancing burned calories — and dehydrated me. I was dying of thirst.
I headed to the bar, hoping they didn’t charge a buck for a plastic cup of water.
As soon as I sat down, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Hey …” a male voice shouted in my ear.
I swung around on the barstool, hoping it wasn’t someone I knew. Nope! The man standing in front of me was a lot younger than I was, so more than likely we didn’t run in the same circles.
“Yeah?” I asked, not sure what he wanted. Had I taken his seat?
“Wanna dance?”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, immediately flattered, “but I just sat down. I need to drink something before I die of thirst. Maybe in a little bit.”
The man turned to leave, but then waved his hand at me as though he were telling me no. “A hundred dollars? No thanks!”
“What did you say?” I shouted over the din, even though I was a hundred percent sure I’d heard him correctly.
The man sat down at a table with several other young men, and they all laughed hysterically at their friend’s rude comment.
As much as I wanted to walk over to the man — boy — and slap him up the backside of his head, I remembered all those barroom brawls my father had to break up, and how he’d always complained that if people just wouldn’t pay any mind to belligerent morons, there’d be a lot less fights.
I decided against the water. I wouldn’t stop coming back to the club to dance. I definitely loved to dance. But I really wasn’t into the bar scene. I’d wait until I could come back with a date or continue to restrict my dancing to weddings and New Year’s Eve parties.
Chapter 8 – A New Plan
I pulled off Angela’s shoes and tossed them next to the door so I’d remember to take them back to her. I certainly wouldn’t be needing them anytime soon. Next, I dropped my keys and purse on the credenza.
At least I had my car. I hadn’t had to use Uber. Which also meant that I hadn’t even gotten the gift of a drink on Valentine’s Day.
I pulled a wine glass off the rack and filled it higher than usual with Merlot.
J’Austen finally showed up to greet me. She must have been sleeping with Eric.
I kneeled down to give her a scratch. “Hey, baby.”
She blinked in response, as if asking, Where have you been?
“You in the mood to hear about tonight’s adventure?”
J’Austen strolled toward the lanai, so I took that as a yes.
After I sat down on the swing, she jumped up beside me. I reached for my computer, deciding I’d start working on tomorrow’s post since I knew she really didn’t care to hear me complain. I’d already written up the review; I just needed to copy and paste, and add links to purchase the book at Amazon.
I opened a new Word doc, just to collect all the info, but then hesitated on the keys as I looked down at J’Austen.
“The thing is …” I said aloud, not really concerned if she wanted to hear about my night or not. I suddenly understood why Tom Hanks had started talking to Wilson. Living without a partner after fifteen years could drive you crazy. Then again, Dick hadn’t been that great of a listener. Even if J’Austen wasn’t the best listener, at least she allowed me to talk out my thoughts.
“The guy at the bar didn’t have to be an asshole,” I said. “I would have danced with him after I had a few sips of water. Heck, I would have danced with anyone who’d asked. I’d always been like that. Well, maybe not Media Man. No sense in leading on a potential stalker.”
Sighing loudly, I stopped trying to explain what I was thinking and started typing.
He should have … I smiled as a thought occurred to me. I didn’t need anyone to listen. I could write down my thoughts, like I did when I was a child. Journaling had been almost as great as an escape as reading had been.
As soon as she sat down at the one empty seat at the bar, Jana felt a tap on her shoulder. She swiveled around on the barstool, hoping the tap had come from the tall bronzed cowboy she’d caught eyeing her on the dance floor.
“Evenin’, Ma’am. I was wondering if you’d save the next dance for me?”
Jana smiled at the sweet country drawl and the way the man had dipped his head to ask her. “Oh, thank you. I just danced to th
ree songs in a row, though, and I’m really thirsty.”
“Understood,” the handsome cowboy said. “You were something else out there. Wish I’d had the nerve to come dance with you. Be okay if I buy you a drink instead?”
Jana smiled. “Thanks. Just water would be great, though.”
He winked. “Water, it is. Bartender, would ya fetch this lovely lady a bottle of your best water?”
Jana couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks again.”
“My pleasure, Ma’am. Name’s Seth. After you cool down, would you do me the honor?”
“Definitely.”
I smiled as I thought about Seth as the southern gentleman. Well, he didn’t have an accent, but he’d been nothing but kind the last few times I’d met him at the library. He hadn’t suggested we go back to his place for a romp in the hay. Hadn’t talked about insects and rodents. And he definitely hadn’t shouted out in the library that I was some Ho who charged men for a dance.
Seriously, it wasn’t that hard. Why couldn’t men just behave?
I thought back on my words … It wasn’t that hard. To write the perfect man, that is. Well, not the perfect man. That wouldn’t be any fun to read. But … what if I could write my own frogs into princes?
Why not? I’d led a pretty interesting childhood. I’d dated enough losers before I’d dated Dick, and then I knew what it was like to be jilted.
I’d loved my Com II class in college. I’d even written a story that the professor had said held promise.
That was it! I could start writing. Of course, I’d still read and keep the blog going, as I was doing rather well with my affiliate earnings. But what if I could start publishing books? I didn’t have time to find a publisher — I needed money soon — but I could self-publish them. Mak could give me some tips. Angela would make sure that they were properly edited.
I opened a new document and just started jotting down ideas for my characters. My male and female protagonists anyway. The rest would come as needed. I thought of my mother and how she’d ended up, and my father’s life, pulling pieces from each as I came up with an idea for a story line.
Hours later I looked up and noticed it was four a.m. I’d been writing all night. I glanced at the word count, surprised to see that I’d written more than ten thousand words in one night.
No sense going to bed now, but I closed the file, deciding I needed to clean up, which would also wake me up so I could get on with my daily tasks. If I laid down for even a few minutes, I might not be able to get back up.
Standing in the shower, I closed my eyes and let the hot water run over my head.
The words I’d just written, the characters I’d created, and the world I’d just designed bounced around in my head. It was as though the characters were talking to me, telling me where their characters should go, how they should grow, what they should become.
I chuckled to myself. “Okay, I obviously hallucinate when I haven’t had enough sleep.”
But enjoying the visions, I closed my eyes again and continued to stand under the rushing spray of water. Delirious or not, I liked this. I imagined the next scene. Envisioned the male protagonist chasing the female protagonist, begging her to let him explain. The scene was so real that I couldn’t help but smile.
As soon as I got out of the shower, I opened the notepad on my iPhone and jotted down notes for the next scene. In my closet, as I pulled down a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, I thought about how the chapter should end.
In the kitchen, I stood in front of the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing, but I didn’t see the coffee stream; I saw my characters, and the hotel bar where they’d meet up with the man she’d owed money to.
“Mom?”
I jumped, of course. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for the coffee to brew.”
Eric walked over to the machine. “It helps if you turn it on.”
“Oh …”
“We’re gonna be late. Can we just pick up something at McDonald’s?”
I hadn’t splurged in a while, and I used to enjoy our drive-thru stops in the morning. “Sure.”
I threw Eric the keys. “You definitely have to drive. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“You gonna be okay driving home, then?”
I smiled at my son who’d suddenly become my protector. “Yeah. The coffee will help.”
Eric pulled the shifter into drive, then turned to me. “What time did you get home?”
I yawned. “Not too late. It was only around eleven, but then I’d worked on my computer until four.”
I didn’t dare tell Eric about my idea to write a book. Not yet. Nor would I tell Angela, simply because she’d want to know everything before I was finished.
This was something I planned to do on my own. I’d seek help once I finished.
Chapter 9 – New Toys
As I sat outside the school, waiting for Eric to finish rehearsals, I typed furiously on my laptop.
The words had been coming at me with a vengeance as if they’d been waiting for me to hear them. It had only been a few weeks, and I was already at sixty thousand words, and I had so many chapters left to go. This was easily going to be a hundred-thousand-word romantic-suspense novel.
Other than driving Eric back and forth to school and cooking and sleeping, I hadn’t stopped. Even my review website had succumbed to me posting reviews of books I’d read years ago.
I simply had to get the words out of my head and into the computer. I now understood why authors said that they had to write to quiet the voices in their heads. Even while I was trying to finish my current story, a million other ideas kept barraging my brain. Breaking my no-extra-expenses rule, I finally just downloaded a writing app on my phone and made folders for each of the ideas that I came up with, knowing that when I finished this story, I’d jump right into the next. I was hooked! But right now I was having fun writing a romantic-suspense novel featuring Seth and me. I would change the names afterward, but right now it was fun picturing myself in the story.
“There he is!” Jana shouted as her ex took the corner too fast, nearly coming up on two wheels. “He caught up with us.”
Seth slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator, and the Mustang screamed forward, sending up a cloud of dust into the air behind them. Jana whipped her head around, but kept low, hoping if her ex-husband was true to his word and started firing rounds that the trunk and two seat cushions might stop a bullet from penetrating her skull.
She had to take the money, though, it was the only way that she and Seth could escape. At least she knew he wouldn’t report the money stolen. After all, how would he explain having half a million dollars in the house?
Jana ducked as the rear window exploded into a million pieces, but Seth didn’t even flinch.
“Hold on, baby,” was all Seth said as he jerked the wheel to the left, threading the Mustang between a semi-truck and an SUV as he turned onto a side street.
Jana held onto the OSH above the door, but still craned her head to see her ex-husband’s truck get crammed by the SUV. She wasn’t sure if she was happy that the semi-truck had missed him or not.
“You did it, baby!” she screeched as soon as Seth sped up the on-ramp for the highway. She threw herself across the seat, nearly sitting on the center console. Who ever thought center consoles were a good idea?
Seth turned his head so he could kiss her, but kept his eyes on the road.
Jana grabbed his face and locked her lips with his, loving the way he tasted. Like power and sexuality, and yet romantic and faithful. She pulled back after a couple of seconds. “How soon until we reach the border?”
“A few hours …”
“I can’t wait that long.” She crawled over the console and straddled him —
“Jana?”
Not only had I jumped at the sound of my name, but I also lifted my computer in front of my face as if someone who knew me might want to kill me. Okay, maybe I
’d researched a little too many murders for my story.
Lowering my computer, I peeked out the window to see Seth standing beside the door. “Oh, hey, Seth!” I said, finally dropping the computer onto my lap again.
Two creases appeared between his eyebrows as he laughed. “Do people sneak up on you a lot?”
I shook my head as I chuckled nervously. “Seriously, you’d think so, huh? I don’t know why I’m so jumpy.”
Seth leaned on the window frame and nodded toward the laptop. “Maybe it’s what you’re writing. That looks like a pretty intense scene.”
“Oh!” I slammed down the lid and glared at him. “You’re not supposed to spy on people.”
He flashed a bright white smile. “Sorry. You were just so absorbed … I was curious.” He frowned. “How come you didn’t tell me you were a writer?”
I rubbed my hands over my eyes, surprised that he hadn’t asked me why I had used his name for my male protagonist. “I’m not a writer. I mean … I’ve never written anything before. I’m just … rambling.”
“Looks good to me —”
“Hey!” Eric’s voice broke off whatever Seth was going to say. I looked up to see my son walking toward the driver’s door of my Tacoma. He lifted his chin at Seth. “What’s up?”
Seth stepped away from the window. “Not much, dude. Just talking with your mom.”
I stared up at Seth through the window. “You two know each other?”
Seth shook his head. “Nah … Guess your son just wants to know who’s talking to his mom. Can’t say that I blame him. Maybe I’ll see you at the library tomorrow?”
I nodded, thankful he didn’t mention my writing. “Sure.” I hadn’t made time for the library, but since he’d asked …
Eric threw the shifter into reverse and Seth hopped further away so Eric wouldn’t run over him.
I waved goodbye, then whipped around to glare at Eric. “Why are you being rude?”
“Who’s that guy? I thought you didn’t have a date at the library.”
[What's Luck Got to Do With It 01.0] Some Lucky Woman: Jana's Story Page 6