TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "WICKED" - TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE

 

        Welcome! This week we have another snippet from "Too Late for Goodbye."   The word prompt is "wicked".        

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Soon Marty would be living on his own –for the first time. He swallowed. Watching his brother drive away, he wondered how it would be to have total privacy. Would he miss Flint or be happy to be alone? He checked his phone, then opened his pocket calendar. The bus ground to a halt before the George Washington Bridge. An accident? He hadn’t expected a traffic jam. Being a planner, he’d built in plenty of time for his appointment with Jenny.

A twinge of guilt shot through him. He’d been wicked, lied to Flint. He only had one appointment to discuss printing –with that luscious blonde he’d met at the Harvest dance. If Flint knew, Marty would never hear the end of it.

But Jenny had taken his card and called for an estimate for their printing services. It wasn’t from the ad, but hell, it was a business meeting. His nerves kicked up as he checked his watch again. Their meeting was scheduled for eleven thirty. He hoped to take her to lunch after. Hell, if she’d have dinner with him, too, he’d give her the printing services at cost. But he couldn’t tell Flint.

Jenny had two children, a boy and a girl. He’d always shied away from dating single women with kids because he didn’t want the responsibility. But when he saw Jenny laughing and dancing and singing with hers, his heart melted.

He stared out the window at the traffic inching along. It was a gray, windy day in March. Dirty old buildings rose up, blocking his view. Verging on being late, he hailed a taxi that crawled through a snarl of cars and trucks. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the hands of the clock moved faster than he did.

The yellow cab stopped in front of a small, two-story building, sandwiched between an older ten-story apartment house and a well-kept, proud, four-story townhouse. He checked the address, paid the driver, and stepped out of the vehicle, right into a patch of mud.

Sliding on the slippery stuff, he fell on his butt on the street.

“Hey, Mister! You okay?” The cabbie turned in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Fine,” Marty muttered. He prayed Jenny hadn’t been looking out her window. What a clumsy fool! As the cab pulled away, he brushed himself off. 

Now there was mud drying on the sides. What about mud on his butt? Great. And he couldn’t even see how much dirt was on the back of his pants. Wonderful impression he’d make. Like some rube from the sticks. And he’d probably wrecked his new suit, too. Stupid dumbass move. With a sigh, Marty approached the front stoop. He pressed the buzzer.

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That's it for this week. Stop by the other Tuesday Tales talented authors. You'll find them HERE.  Thanks for stopping by.

 

PICTURE PROMPT - NEW STORY! TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE

 

Welcome! Sorry about leaving you hanging on The Kicker's Story last week, but it was necessary as the book is almost finished. So we start a new story today, "Too Late for Goodbye." 

It's picture prompt week. Stories are limited to 300 words. The picture I picked illustrates how close brothers Flint and Marty McKay are. They have always had each other's backs -- and engaged in a bit of rivalry growing up, too. You'll meet them now. Thanks for stopping by. (Scroll down for the link to the other Tuesday Tales stories.)

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Pine Grove

“Whoa! Who died?” 

“What?” Standing in front of the mirror, Marty McKay straightened his tie and glanced at his brother, Flint.

 “I mean, you’re wearing a suit, shirt, and tie. Going to a funeral?”

“Very funny.” Marty combed his short, brown hair over and over until it was perfect.

“I thought so.” Flint chuckled. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“I’m going to New York’s all.” He picked up his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket.

“Why?”

“I’m meeting a couple of clients.” Marty sensed heat in his cheeks at the lie.

“Clients? In the Big Apple?”

“Yes.” He fastened a watch on his wrist and faced his brother. “Remember the ad I put in the paper there? We got a couple of phone calls. I’m going in to see what the projects are.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember. Good idea.”  

“It’s business, so get off my back.”

Flint narrowed his eyes and stared at his brother. “One of ‘em wouldn’t be a pretty girl, by the name of Jenny, would it?”

Marty turned away so his brother wouldn’t see his blush. “Maybe.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late. Give me a ride to the bus?”

“Sure.”

The two young men rode in silence. Marty stared at the new spring green leaves emerging on the trees. The caw of a crow caught his ear.

“I mean, if you’re going to see her, it’s okay with me.”  Flint turned right.

“I don’t need your approval.” Marty continued to stare out the window.

“I know. Just sayin’.”  

“I’m moving over to the Barrett house this weekend.”

Flint slowed for a stop sign. “You don’t have to leave, you know.”

“I’m not going to make a career out of being a third wheel. You’re married now, Flint. Everything is different.”

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Click HERE to go to the wonderful Tuesday Tales stories!

 Hello, 

 This will be the last excerpt of The Kicker, Part 1 that I post here on Tuesday Tales. I'm sorry about this. Please don't be mad. It's longer than usual and you'll know why when you read it. The book will be out in a few weeks, and you'll be able to read the end of this story then. In the meantime, with out further adieu...Dale & Robbie: 

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Dale’s stomach flipped as she depressed the gas pedal harder. She had to beat him to The Beast. Sweat broke out on her brow. Maybe Trunk wouldn’t even be there? There was no game that afternoon, so where else would he be but in his wife’s bar, right? Maybe he went to a movie. As much as she tried to convince herself he wasn’t there, her heart knew the truth. Her pulse raced and her stomach turned queasy.

Racing into a space on the street, she jammed on the brakes and bolted out of the car, not bothering to lock it. Once inside, she glanced around and didn’t see Robbie. Tuffer sat alone at a table in the back. She let out a breath she’d been holding. Thank God! Trunk lounged against the bar, chatting with Bull Brodsky, an offensive lineman for the Kings. Dale rushed over. She wrapped her hand around his upper arm.

“Hey, Dale! Happy Thanksgiving, hon. Tell me, how was Robbie?” Trunk snickered.

“Look, the bet is off. Okay. It was a mistake. I never should have agreed.”

“Why? The guy didn’t fall for you? I find that hard to believe.”

“According to Demson, he fell hard. So you win!” Bull chimed in.

“Yeah. Now all that’s left to collect the dough is to break up with him,” Trunk added.  

Dale raised her hands. “No, no. No bet. I didn’t win. He didn’t fall for me. Call it off, okay? Honestly, it wasn’t...”

“Dale,” Robbie called.

She turned in time to see him come out from the men’s room to join Tuffer.

“There he is. Lover boy. Tell him Dale,” Trunk said.

“Tell me what?” Robbie approached his teammates at the bar.

“No. Nothing. There’s nothing to tell,” Dale said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the door. “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”

Robbie freed his arm and walked up to Trunk. “Tell me what?”

Dale edged between them. “Trunk, don’t!”

“Come, Dale. Don’t steal the moment. I’ve been waiting for this for years.” Trunk pushed her aside.

“What’s he talking about Dale?” Robbie looked at her.

“Don’t believe him. Don’t believe him.”

“She doesn’t love you, pal. You think she does, but it’s phony,” Trunk said, pushing his finger into Robbie’s shoulder.

“Of course, she does.” Robbie shoved Trunk’s hand away.

“It’s all a bet.”

“Trunk, don’t!” Dale wailed, her eyes filling.

“What do you mean, a bet?” Robbie’s eyebrows lowered.

“I bet her she couldn’t break your heart.”

Robbie shot a quizzical look first at Trunk, then at Dale.

“That’s right,” Bull chimed in. “He said you didn’t have a heart to break.”

“And she said you did and laughed.”

“So, I bet her a hundred bucks she couldn’t break your heart.”

“Really?” Robbie’s eyebrows rose.

“Yep. She’d have to get you to fall in love with her first. And then she’d dump you, like you dumped all those women who fell for you. Then she’d break your heart. If you even have a heart to break,” Trunk said.  

Robbie faced her. “Dale? Did you make that bet?”

With tears streaming down her face, she nodded.

“Did you dump him yet?” Bull asked.

A hush fell over the bar as the patrons listened.

“No,” she whispered.

“I guess his finding out about the bet is as good as dumping him, right Bull?”

Brodsky nodded.

The color drained out of Robbie’s face. “So this was all a gag?”

“No,” she whispered, reaching for him. He sidestepped, avoiding her grasp.

“Yeah. It was. There you go! That’s the payoff,” Trunk said, pulling five twenties from his wallet. She ignored him. Her heartbeat doubled, sweat broke out on her brow. “Don’t. Please Robbie. Let me explain.”

The light in his eyes turned cold and hard, his expression to stone. “Your performance over the last two nights deserves way more than a hundred bucks.” Robbie yanked out his wallet from his back pocket. He grabbed a fistful of bills and threw them at Dale.

She gasped, drawing her hand over her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and wet. The bills floated to the floor.  “Please Robbie. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

As he shook his head, Robbie’s eyes filled. A tear slid down his cheek, but he caught it and wiped it away.

“She had to make you cry to win the hundred bucks. Bingo. You win, Dale.” Trunk shoved the money into Dale’s hand. She pushed him and the bills away. 

Robbie shot her a wounded stare, “Congratulations,” he choked out, then turned on his heel and strode out of the bar.

“Robbie! Wait! It’s not true!” Dale called, following him to the door.

He jumped into his car and sped off. Dale sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands. What had she done? Oh God, what had she done?

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That's it until the book releases. I apologize for leaving you here, but there was no way around it. I will post here when the book is up for preorder. Thank you so much for reading Robbie's story. Don't forget to hop on over to the wonderful Tuesday Tales stories. You'll find them HERE.