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
