I Keep Plugging Away
It’s hard sometimes, it really is, but every now and again I remember why I actually do this writing thing.
“Prodigal Son” has been coming along nicely this weekend. We’ve had lots of stops and starts over the last few months but we may be on the right track now and headed toward the Finish Line even faster than I originally thought. So that’s good.
The Big Guy has been whispering in my ear again.
I think as soon as we’re done with “Prodigal Son” we’ll get back to “Stay With Me” and gut it. We’re going to do that one just for us. Most people won’t understand it anyway and they’ll hate the…ah…out-cum of the story. So…screw it. That one’s just for fun and to get back in the swing of working His Lordship. Maybe after that we’ll get back to the Ares others have come to know.
In the meantime, here’s a nice little snippet from “Prodigal Son”. I’m tired and hungry now. Going to eat and watch a movie to recharge my batteries🙂
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
“Sweetheart, wait,” Nick got up with his plate in his hand and then grabbed Mason’s, “Your brother and I will get this, you worked so hard today, why don’t you sit down for a while?”
With quizzical eyes, she looked from Nick to her brother until Rick spoke.
“Yeah, we got this,” Mason stood up as Nick walked into the kitchen, “we’ll clean this up, you make coffee and put dessert on the table.” When Nick shot him a glance Mason didn’t say anything further knowing Hannah would feel useless rather than relaxed if she just sat on the couch right now.
“Ok, sounds good, I made apple pie,” Hannah started making coffee while the men cleared the table and did the dishes.
Standing over a sink full of hot soapy water, Nick washed the dishes while Mason dried and put them away. He smirked at the thoughts in his head.
“What?” Mason asked sharply.
“Nothing, just wondering why you’re not four pant sizes bigger than you are, she’s an awesome cook.” They’d enjoyed several delicious dinners over the last week but homemade sauce, pasta made from scratch and apple pie had not been on their menus. That was mostly because Hannah didn’t have the time to cook that way for him when he picked her up from the soup kitchen. Today, after her tests, she had nearly three hours to concentrate on a single meal and she did despite her tiny bout of inebriation.
“Me too,” Mason put the last of the dinner plates back in the cabinet.
“Does she always cook like this for you?”
“Maybe one day you’ll be lucky enough to have her make breakfast, stud.”
“I certainly hope so.” The look of consternation on Mason’s face made Nick snicker to himself as he wandered back into the living room. Hannah was relaxing on the couch with a tray of coffee and dessert in front of her on the table. “Hey, sweetheart, what do you say? Do you want to play a song for Mason?”
Her eyes brightened as she looked to her brother, “Do you want to hear a song?”
Settling down in the easy chair, reaching a shot glass and Ouzo, Mason nodded, “Go for it.” With his back to them so they couldn’t see him cringe when Nick picked up Mason’s guitar, he sipped on the Ouzo listening to the sounds of Nick and Hannah shuffling into position behind him.
“That new one we learned?”
“Sure,” Nick strapped the guitar around his neck, “why not? Ready?”
Mason knew what the song was going to be, Girl On the Moon by Foreigner, but this was the first time he heard it live with his naked ears rather than coming through the crappy speakers on his computer through the even crappier mic in the nanny-cam. Foreigner was never one of his favorite bands but listening to Nick softly singing the words, Mason took another drink as he lit his evening cigar letting the honeyed tones of Nick’s baritone voice wash over him and remind him that his sister still had a long fruitful life ahead of her.
“It’s night, again. Time for my mind to go wandering off on a journey through space and time.”
Turning around in the recliner hurt his back so Mason switched his seat to the far end of the couch where he could easily see the duet and the open windows beyond them. Puffing away on his cigar and downing the licorice alcohol that wasn’t his normal fare but seemed to suit the evening he listening and gazed and listened and gazed…
“It all seems so familiar but I hope this time. That the girl on the moon will soon be mine. All mine, tonight.”
Tapping a fat ash off into the ashtray, Mason’s blue eyes looked away and then back just as a flicker of light across the street blazed in the rainy night. He tried to tune out the suggestive tone of Nick’s voice and nature of the song, as he swore he someone in a car light up a cigarette as they fiddled with a glowing cellphone. A bolt of ice shot down his spine as thoughts of the Renoir, the house phone that rang so much and so long he had to shut it off went dancing through his mind. Taking down the last swallow in the glass and narrowing his eyes, Mason swore the colors on the cellphone in the car in front of the house were equal to the ones in his living room. He squinted in an effort to see better and then his eyes widened as they wandered to the white teddy bear sitting atop the TV. With deep suspicion they drifted out the window once more.
Nick glanced at Mason as they played hoping to see a look of approval but when the creased brow met his gaze he dropped a step but continued playing as he turned to look out the window. “Should I leave my dream untouched? Should I even know where she’s from?” Seeing what Mason did, he hands fell away from the guitar as he unstrapped it from around his broad shoulders. “You know what, sweetheart? I left something in the car, I’ll be right back.”
Mason stood up meaning to stop Nick from going outside but in two strides the big man was across the living room and throwing open the door to the mudroom. The next thing he knew, cold evening air was hitting him in the face. Watching through the window, Nick raced across the street to confront the loiterer but the car and driver took off just before he could lay his hands on the driver’s door. He didn’t notice that Hannah stopped playing and was following his gaze.
Pissed off at having let the intruder get away, Nick took a breath as he ducked into his Mustang coming back with the only thing he thought may satisfy Hannah’s curiosity. Taking a deep breath as he shut the door he strode back to the house and through the open doors with a round black container of Skoal Peppermint Chew in his hands. With the confessional words on his lips he was stopped cold when Hannah stood up from the piano bench.
“Was that the man from the soup kitchen?”
In unison their voices chimed; “What man?”