This has been an incredibly busy month!!
I have so many notes on so many things, but I'm thinking I'll finish posting the Story first.
The last Saturday of the Writer's Festival held more events than one could attend; I did all the salons for the day (easy peasy--they're all at the same location), which gave me the opportunity to work through the story I started at the Horror Workshop.
So, without further ado, here is the next instalment, very minimally edited 1st draft (hand-written with little revising etc. typing it here). [##] denotes writing sprint time before breaks. This was a long salon, and it is taking forever to type this up...
You can find the other instalments here: Horror (1), Sci/Fi Speculative (2), Contemporary / Women's Lit (3)
Lisa May decided to turn left, away from the 'Hood to the right, and away from the park behind her.
The squirrel was gone. The man who'd been following her was screaming and rubbing his eyes. "Oh Gawd, that burns so much!"
"Stop rubbing your eyes, maybe." Why did she engage? Would she come to regret that?
"Chico! Agh! CHICO!"
Dude was rolling around on the ground now, so Lisa May headed left towards home. She could always detour if buddy decided to resume following her.
But he didn't.
She took a route that circled the long way around her block just in case, didn't see anyone following, and walked in her front door.
"Mabel, I'm home!"
Always acknowledge the roommate when you get home. You never know what they're up to.
The two cats that lived with Lisa May stalked into the hall, meowing for food. Poor things probably only had half a bowl of kibble left.
Lisa May fed the cats (more), showered, fed herself, and opened the newest Jennifer Crusie / Bob Mayer collaboration. Time passed and imaginations..
[ugh I don't know what to do here]
What she wouldn't do for a guy who was more secure than her ex, Lance (who was more like the beige boyfriend from Crazy for You). She was pretty sure Lance found ways to sabotage her life so that he could swoop in and fix it. Or keep her dependent on him. And when she pushed back and caught on, he just got overtly controlling.
His dream, Lance's dream, was the house with the picket fence, two point two kids, and wifey at home making dinner and spreading her legs at his every whim.
No. Thank. You. Lisa May had told Lance repeatedly. NO. No kids, no giant house, no being a SAHW.
She liked being independent. Oh sure, she'd like a partner. But someone who encouraged her to be her best self, and someone who'd work with her, and who she could work with, not for.
[15]
Spencer was in pain. Not just his eyes. Sure, those were burning like hell, but his heart was breaking. The love of his life just pepper sprayed him in the face. And, because pepper spray for humans was illegal but bear spray was not, and because his face was on fire more than any other time he'd been peppered, he was guessing she had used bear spray on him.
He was following her through a wooded park, after all. And sure, he'd been following her with the intent to scare her, but that was his job! Scare her so much that she ran back into her ex-boyfriend's arms, married him, cleaned his house, cooked, had kids.
He groaned. If she was having kids, she was having sex. With another man. A man not Spencer. He might not be liking his job today.
Chico popped back onto his shoulder. "Dude, what the fuck did she hit us with? That was NOT regular pepper spray!"
I'm in pain, Chico. So. Much. Pain."
"It burns, for sure," Chico said.
"No, it's not that. I mean, yes, my face is on freaking fire, and I think it was bear spray, but my heart. I feel like I've just been dumped, which is stupid, because like, I'm not her man. Well it just is."
Chico stared, unblinking at him. His little furry head tilted a fraction of an inch. A millimeter, really. Still enough to signify confusion.
"Can I feel a new level of admiration for Lisa May?" Spenser asked. "I mean, here we are trying to Scare her, ad she's the one torturing us. Amazing, really!"
"I don't think I'd use the word amazing," Chico replied.
Spencer wiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks, and finally noticed that Chico was fine. And wet. "How are you not dying? And why are you all wet?"
"Oh, uh..." Chico glanced around, looking anywhere but at Spencer's swollen eyes.
"Did you port yourself into a lake? Without me?"
"Would you believe me if I said my tail twitched me away all on its own?"
Spencer blinked. Or thought he did. Tried to. "No."
He started walking in the direction Lisa May went. At least, he thought he was going the same way. It's not like he'd been able to see where she went. Or scent her trail.
"Come on, Rat."
"Rat? Don't call me rat! It was an accident, I swear! I'll twitch us to the lake right now if you want!"
Spencer paused. "Make it quick, and then twitch us right back to Lisa May's street. I still have a job to do." He'd been hoping to avoid Scaring her at home, but now he'd have to. Her fault, really.
"Do you think she went home?"
Spencer tried to sniff out the smell of her shampoo. He would like to say that his Hunter senses were working, but his nose was so full of snot that he didn't think he' be able to smell dog vomit if he fell face first into it.
[20]
Lisa May woke to one cat on her pillow, tail in her face, and the other cat on her chest, eyes boring into her with demand.
mewroup. Soft. But brooking no argument for non-compliance.
"Fine."
Lisa May got up, peed, and padded downstairs to feed the cats, only to find dishes full of kibble and pancakes on the griddle.
"What the fuck?" Lisa May whispered with alarm.
Mabel didn't cook. She'd changed the locks, so Lance's key shouldn't, wouldn't, wor.
"Oh, hey," a deep voice said behind her.
Behind her.
She grabbled the closest thing at hand, turned around, and kept her arm moving until the spatula hit the side of a face. A very red, very puffy, crimson, teary-eyed face.
"Ow!" The man put his hand up to his head. "That stings!"
She moved to hit him again, and this time she'd get him with edge, maybe cut him a little, but he grabbed it out of her hand.
"Okay, now you gotta stop doing that," was all he got out before the rolling pin in her other hand connected with his temple. His eyes glazed over, or at least she thought they did. Hard to tell with lids so puffy they were already almost completely closed.
Well, if this wasn't the guy who was following her last night. How did he get in? She'd have to ask another time because this time, the rolling pin did its job and down he went.
"Well, now he's just going to love you even more," said someone from above her, which didn't make any sense at all.
"What--who--where are you?" Lisa May turned in a full circle twice, looking all around, but not only could she not see anyone, now she was dizzy. Maybe Mabel had a friend over? Which would be weird. Oh. No. Maybe it was the squirrel. Lisa May started laughing.
"Squirrel. No sense. Makes no sense at all!" Sure, there'd been a squirrel on Dude's shoulder last night, but really, even if there was a squirrel in her house right now, it wouldn't be talking. That would be crazy.
"Not as crazy as not flipping the pancakes before they burn."
Lisa May turned. And yes, there very much was a Fucking. Furry. Squirrel. On her counter. Nose twitching. Staring at the pancakes like he wanted to devour one like he'd never had food before in his life.
Okay. Squirrel. Talking squirrel. She was NUTS.
But, the squirrel was right. The smoke alarm would be going off soon. She pried the spatula out of Dude's hands, and she flipped the pancakes. Blueberries glistened up at her, their sugars carmelized. Her absolute favourite. Some strange man, who'd followed her home with his pet squirrel, had made her favourite.
[20]
Spencer came to slowly. He kept his breathing even and his eyes closed. Always assess the situation before you give yourself away. He heard the clink of cutlery on Corelle. Smelled fetid cat breath--oh goody, he could smell again, He cracked one eye open. The black cat stared into his eyes, its pupils a vertical slit, and its eyelids narrowing with displeasure, like it had been staring into Spencer's soul, and it didn't like what it had seen.
"Oh, look who's awake." Chico. Chico was talking, so things couldn't be dire.
"These are really good," said the most wonderful voice in the world. The voice of an angel. The voice that drove his dreams into erotic spaces. He tried to push himself up off the floor, and realized that his hands were tied behind his back.
So, not the voice of an angel. The voice of someone who could look after herself. Spencer's heart melted.
"I, uh, hoped they'd pass muster," he said. His stomach growled. Hungry. Oh, he was so very hungry. "Can I have some of those?" Spencer asked, hoping she'd cut his hands loose. Or feed him by hand. Yeah, keep his hands tied.
"You could feed me by hand. Keep my hands tied,"
"No."
Okay then.
He had a headache. And he had to pee. And his hands were tied. Maybe loosed hands would be better after all.
"Uh, small problem," he said. "I really need to avail myself of your facilities."
"Avail yourself of my facilities. Who talks like that? Like, seriously? Are you trying to sound all hoity-toity? Are you too delicate to say PEE?"
Spenser rolled his eyes. Not a comfortable thing to do with swollen eyes. Useless lake water; wasn't helpful at all. "I have to pee."
"Maybe your squirrel can hold an empty bottle for you."
Chico snorted.
"Dude. Chico. Come on. I'm about to make a puddle here."
Chico sighted, waited a beat, and twitched his tail. Next thing Spencer knew, he was standing in a very pink bathroom, hands-free. He did his thing, and was just zipping up his pants when he was twitched back into the kitchen. Not standing, and not hands free.
"Chico, what the he..."
Lisa may, love of his life (even if she didn't know it yet), had Chico by the scruff of his neck in one hand, and a death grip on his tail in the other. The tabby was nose-to-nose with the squirrel.
[20]
[I have notes here to add some back-and-forth chatter about washing hands, and feeding by hand.]
"What the hell?" Dude said, exasperated. Lisa May really needed a name for this guy. Referring to him as Dude was so impersonal. Actually, maybe Dude worked for now. She still held the squirrel in her hands. Problem, because she couldn't eat more of these incredibly delicious, very fluffy bluberry pancakes that had blueberries in them and were so fluffy. The squirrel was so soft.
"What the fuck? Did you drug the blueberry pancakes? That is so wrong."
Lisa May's head felt like it was going to roll off of her shoulders, and like it would plop onto the floor, and somehow she'd be left standing there looking at it, which didn't make sense, and nothing made sense, and why was the squirrel purple squirrels weren't supposed to be purple and oh boy.
Spencer watched Lisa May sway. Watched as she let go of Chico's tail. Watched as the black cat appeared from out of nowhere to grab Chico's tail in its teeth. The tabby stopped nosing Chico's nose, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
"Eep!" was all Chico could do. Sure, usually the squirrel squeaking was enough to make cats let go of him; most didn't know what to do with shrieking squirrels, but not this time. Oh, no siree. Lisa May would not have sissies for cats. Of course she had courageous cats who did a better job than some protection dogs he'd met in his time.
Lisa May, hands now free of squirrel, stubmled backwards. Her hands groped behind her. Fuck. She was digging in the knife drawer. Concerning. Chico's eyes widened in alarm. Lisa May didn't come out with a knife though. The EpiPen. Oh thank god, she grabbed the EpiPen. Spencer really had to find out what she was allergic to.
Wait. Why was Lisa May grabbing an EpiPen? He made her favourite blueberry pancakes the same way he'd watched her make them. Had he not noticed if she used cinnamon instead of nutmeg? He'd put in a little extra. Was she allergic to nutmeg? Oh, god no, he didn't want to kill her. He loved her!
She stabbed herself in the leg. Breathed in deeply.
Oh. OH. Adrenalin. She was trying to undo the sedatives. He was not being very good at his job:
Scare the girl. Woman. Scare the woman enough that she goes back to her ex. That's the job.
Not follow the woman, get pepper-sprayed (bear sprayed, specifically), break into her house, drug her, make her think she's going to die alone...
[20. End Romance Salon.]
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