We’re back with the Promptly Penned flash fiction for July and they made me really start thinking.
The prompt lines are:
Someone walks by your table and drops a folded napkin in front of you, trying to be discreet. It is a note saying, “Get out now…while you still can.”
It’ll be bold in the narrative, and this is in an upcoming tale, THE CONCRETE ANGEL, a paranormal biker holiday romance with humor. 😉 Happy reading!
Earl looked like he wanted to throw a punch at me. Or at least his fork, but in the middle of a swanky restaurant in Fort Collins, he didn’t have the pull to be allowed back.
“So now that I have your attention, Mr. Creighton, I think there’s a deal to be made. What do you say?” I sat back in my chair as I stuffed my phone into my purse. I had no illusions about him getting a hold of it. I’d emailed the images to a cloud server, another hidden place, and I had another two copies squirreled away in various safe deposit boxes. One was even at a bank.
“I don’t truck with witches.” He crossed himself.
I laughed at his old fashioned phrasing. “Oh, buddy, you already set yourself up for ‘trucking’ with witches when you came after me and burned my home to the ground. Now, if you don’t want the magic to rebound on your ass, you’re gonna want to make a deal with me.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Do you want to hear my terms or are you gonna just sit there with that sour look on your mug like a petulant child?”
“I’m gonna get you for this.” He snarled the words but I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
“You’re not off to a great start, Mr. Creighton. The thing is, the more energy you put into trying to take me down, the faster the rebound of magic will be.” I shrugged again. “Now is your only chance to make this right. So do you want to hear my conditions or not?”
“Fuck you, bitch.”
I almost snarled out one of my curses. It wasn’t deadly, just extremely uncomfortable and uncurable if one didn’t make efforts to take care of it. But someone walked by our table and dropped a folded napkin in front of me, trying to be discreet. I blinked, the intensity of the moment broken by that one action, and a familiar scent accosted my nose. Petrichur. The scent of dry stone after the first rainstorm. One of my most favorite and treasured scents, and belonging to the one man who’d captured my heart.
I glanced down at the napkin and realized there was a note tucked between the folds. I shot a look at Creighton, but he was whispering to someone over his shoulder. I took his distraction to slide the note below the table’s edge and unfolded it in my hands.
“Get out now…while you still can.”
Unease slithered through me and I wondered how much time I had. Taking a deep breath, I shoved the note in my purse and straightened my shoulders.
“I’ll give you some time to think about it, Mr. Creighton. I’m just gonna run to the ladies’ room while you mull it over. Mmkay?” I rose and rapped my knuckles on the table as I shot him a mocking smile.
He scowled back at me but I wasn’t waiting around to see what was coming. I threw my purse strap over my head and headed for the bathrooms near the front door. As soon as I was out of sight of the table, I grabbed my jacket and sailed out the door, scanning the road outside for my favorite Concrete Angel. I didn’t know what was coming, but if Flint had walked through the restaurant, I knew it would be exciting. I was just surprised he hadn’t beat Creighton to a pulp right there.
Would’ve been hell on the furniture. And bloodstains rarely came out of clothing.
I found Flint sitting on his bike down the block a bit and he nodded to me.
“Get on. We need to go. Now.” His sign language was emphatic and fast.
I didn’t hesitate. I swung my leg over the back of his Harley and clamped my arms around his waist just as he drove us into the evening traffic
That’s it for me this month. See y’all next month. 🙂