TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "MUD" - Another Episode of "Too Late for Goodbye"

 

                                        

This week our word prompt is "mud." I have another bit from my WIP, "Too Late for Goodbye". I hope you enjoy it. Scroll down to return to the excellent authors on Tuesday Tales and read their stories. Thanks for stopping by. 

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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 in 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! Those damn new shoes! He checked the bottoms, smooth as glass.

Now there was mud caked on the sides and he had no time to wipe it off. Great. Wonderful impression he’d make. Like some rube from the sticks. And he’d probably wrecked his new suit, too. Stupid dumbass move. He shook his head and approached the front stoop. He pressed the buzzer.

The door swung open. Jenny stood before him, wearing jeans and a snug T-shirt. Her silky blonde locks tousled around her shoulders, her phone to her ear. She gestured for him to come in.

“Yes, yes, Roberta. I know. But I need your column by tomorrow morning, latest. The printer is here now. Yes. We’re going to go over the layout. No. I can handle it. You just write that column!”

Clicking her phone off, she faced him. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in.” Eyeing him, she remarked, “What happened? Close encounter with a mud puddle?”

He laughed. “Maybe I’d better take my shoes off.”

“We never wear shoes in the house.”

He glanced down. Her bare slender, delicate feet had toenails painted a lovely pink. A shiver shot through him.

“Come into the kitchen. I’m making soup.” She took his arm and led him toward the back of the small townhouse.

Something smelled damn good. Beautiful, funny, and she could cook. The trifecta. No, better yet, the Mega Millions Lottery of women. 

“Sorry if I’m late.”

She checked her watch. “Nope. Right on time. Do you like soup?”

“I do. But I thought maybe I could take you out to lunch.”

“Why? We can have soup and talk about the paper.”

Marty tried to hide his disappointment. Why? Because he didn’t give a damn about her printing project, he just wanted to sit and gaze at her for hours over a glass of wine.

“Okay. What’s the project.”

“Sit down. I’ll get it.”

Did he stare are her cute butt as she left the room? Damn right he did.

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - MORE OF TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE

 

Welcome! This is picture prompt week. We're limited to only 300 words. We join Marty on his trip to New York City to meet up with a woman who intrigued him. Don't forget to scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and the excellent stories there. Thanks for stopping by.

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Marty glanced at his phone, then opened his pocket planner. The bus ground to a halt before the Lincoln Tunnel. An accident? He hadn’t expected a traffic jam. Being the planner he was, he’d built in plenty of time for his appointment with Jenny.

A twinge of guilt shot through him. He’d 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.

Jenny had taken his card and called for an estimate for their printing services. It wasn’t from the ad, but it was a business meeting. His nerves kicked up as he checked his watch again. He hoped to take her to lunch. Hell, if she’d have dinner with him, too, he’d give her the printing 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. Wasn’t sure he’d make much of a father, either. But when he saw Jenny laughing, dancing, and singing with her children, his heart melted.  

He stared out the window at the traffic inching along. It was a gray, windy day in March. Dirty buildings rose up, blocking his view. Where was that beautiful New York skyline he’d seen in pictures? His palms started to sweat. One more glance at his watch. Ten thirty. He still had time.

Ten minutes later, the bus wheezed through the toll booth and into the tunnel. He hustled to the curb. 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.

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "CLOCK" - NEW STORY!

 

Welcome! This week we start a brand new story, "Too Late for Goodbye." It's another Pine Grove tale. Our word prompt is "clock". Don't forget to scroll down and return to Tuesday Tales. Thank you for stopping by! 

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Pine Grove

Standing in front of the mirror, Marty McKay straightened his tie.

“Whoa! Who died?”  

“What?” Marty 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 out the window at the new spring green leaves emerging on the trees. The caw of a crow caught his eye.

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

“I don’t need your approval.”

“I know. Just sayin’.”

“Jackie Stone has moved into her house. I’m moving over to the Barrett house this weekend.”

Flint slowed for a stop sign. “Okay. 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.”

“I don’t want you to think you have to leave.”

“It’s my decision. And, yes, I do have to leave

. Living with newlyweds is depressing.”

“Thanks a pantload.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You need to find someone, Marty.”

“Duh.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” Flint pulled into the parking lot and stopped. “Call me when you come back and I’ll pick you up.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Good luck.”

Their eyes met. “Yeah.” Marty glanced up at the clock over the door of the bus station. He had only five minutes to spare. He got out of the car and sprinted across the parking lot.  He purchased his ticket and got on the bus. Flint was still there.

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?

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