Tuesday, August 04, 2015
I Love Dialogue - Katie B.
This story hasn't got a proper title, but its working title is Katie B. after the main character (real name Kathleen Bonaparte) The following are the first 2 pages of the story. I not only like the dialogue, I like the narrative. Within the first 30 seconds of writing this book, I absolutely loved Katie. She totally nailed this scene.
Candlelight cast a flickering, golden glow over white table tops. China, crystal, real silverware, graced the tablecloth. Jon and I sat in blissful silence, listening to live chamber music as we waited for our meal. Closing my eyes, I let my senses catch up. This was far too much—overwhelming, but Jon had insisted. Our anniversary should be special. The commemoration of our first date was something he usually forgot. I was thrilled this year that he remembered. I always do, but for the last four years, he's treated it like no big thing.
Of course, our circumstances were far different then. Both poor college students, living on a tight budget, we couldn't afford much. He paid for the movie and I paid for our snacks. We split the cost of a simple dinner. We smuggled drinks and candy in my handbag, but bought a small popcorn to share. For me, that night was magical and it was followed by more of the same. The only night more special was the one where we made love for the first time. I was a virgin and I gave myself to him. I don't think he appreciated or valued my gift as much as I did, but men rarely do. What we value so highly, they're ready to give away with the first drop of their trousers.
Our appetizers had arrived, a delicately flavored artichoke soup, when Mina Stevens surged up to our table. She's like a big, four masted ship—just swoops in at full sail. Not that she's fat, she's tall, bony, imposing, and is usually wearing some sort of shawl draped around her. She came to roost at the edge of our table, claws extended. (I realize I've mixed metaphors, but defy anyone who knows her to describe it any other way.) Talons and teeth bared, she smiled at me with a predatory air. Her black hair piled on her head, gold threaded dress glittering like armor, she glared at me, jaw clenched. Her dark eyes skewered me, then moved to Jon. The smile and aspect changed. She was girlish, giddy, flirtatious.
“Hello, Jon. I see you have your little friend by your side. How nice to see you, Kitty Bumpkiss.”
“His fiancée, Kathleen Bonaparte....”
She waved her fingers at me to brush me off. I've tolerated Mina for three years, because she's the wife of Jon's boss. Jon is doing well at the company. I didn't want to ruin that by being rude, but she's a beast. Jon rose to greet her, kissing her hand. Blood red nails gently raked his skin as she let go.
“Would you like to join us?” Jon offered.
“Jon! This is our—”
“Love to! Thank you!”
Jon must have expected this, because a waiter was ready with a chair and had it under her bony ass before she finished speaking.
“Jon!” I yelped. Let me say right now that, although I'm an actress, I'm not a drama queen. I'm not prone to making a scene, unless it's scripted. I am a lady, after all, despite my lack of fortune. However, this behavior was rapidly burying my ladylike nature in a mountain of South Mississippi bitch.
When she sat, Mina took Jon's hand, holding it with great familiarity. He clasped hers with more affection than he ever held mine. My eyes focused on that for a long minute, before traveling the length of their arms to their faces.
“Have you told her yet?” Mina asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
“No, darling. I was waiting for you.”
Mina turned to me, fangs bared, lips drawn back as if she were going to bite me any second. “Jon and I are getting married,” she announced with a sneer. “I've divorced the moron, taken his half of the company, and Jon is going to run it for me. As for you—buh-bye!” She waved her fingers at me with an air of dismissal.
“You whore!” I growled, glaring at Jon. “You unmitigated bastard!” In full voice, I stood, throwing my napkin on the table.
Every head in the place turned to me, glowering. No one spoke above a refined whisper, but the volume was rising.
“You brought me here so I wouldn't make a scene, you Yankee Wanker!” I bellowed. Ain't no one can project like a redneck actress from Natchez. “And you, Ms. Pootang!” I rounded on Mina. “I never liked you. I always thought Louie married way beneath him! And you both have the balls to throw this in my face on our anniversary! Is she paying for this meal?” I demanded of Jon, not waiting for an answer. “Cause it just got more expensive!” I shoved the table. Crystal glasses went flying. China crashed to the floor, soup slopped, landing in Mina's lap.
Holding myself with dignity, I spoke to the others in the restaurant, “I apologize to those whose more civilized dinner was interrupted by this scene. I've just been cast aside by Jon Harrison, in lieu of Mina Stevens. I humbly wish you a good night,” I said, letting my Southern accent layer my words.
The maitre d' approached, fluttering as he tried to tell me to leave. I held up a hand to stop his babble.
“I'm going,” I assured him, with a toss of my head. I took the bottle of expensive wine and emptied it over Jon's head, dropping the bottle on his dick. “The whore will pay for it,” I said as I strutted out.
The room erupted with talk, then one pair of hands started clapping, then three, then the roomful. Keeping my face impassive, I stalked out the door, collected Jon's Corvette from the valet and drove home. I managed to hold it together long enough to enter the parking garage. I slid into our assigned spot, purposely sideswiping the car next to us, jumping the curb to slam into the wall. Jon's vintage Corvette made a sickening crunch as it hit the concrete wall.
© 2015 Dellani Oakes
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