Welcome to June’s last Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog where a select group of authors invites you to follow our works in progress. Each week, we write to a word or picture prompt. This week, our word prompt is BITE.
I continue with Buck’s Fizz, my novella.
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Rachel said. “Becky, I think we need to have a look at our stuff this afternoon and fit her in for a number each set. We’re scheduled to do four, right?”
“Yeah. Jess, why don’t you pick those you know best, and maybe we can do ‘Crying’ for the boss. Remember, we’ve got to suck up to the crowd, or it’s adios in the morning.”
She’d called me Jess—second time today. Now, that was a first. Before I could answer, we crested a hill, and the big house came into view.
“Holy shit!” Rachel leaned so far forward, her nose brushed the windshield. “We’ve just stepped into The Twilight Zone. It’s like we’ve arrived at Southfork, straight onto the set of Dallas.”
My jaw dropped at the sight of the stately house with its fine white pillars, something I would’ve expected to see in Georgia or the Carolinas. Was that really a green lawn? The dust vanished as we followed our leader onto a paved driveway and around to the side of the house. Lance pulled up in front of the garage. I turned my head and glared behind us at a straight paved road that must hook up with the highway that past in front of The Squawking Tomcat. Had the ride from hell been another way for him to show his annoyance?
He stopped his truck and motioned Becky should park next to him. The van hadn’t quite stopped when I threw open the door, desperate for some fresh air. As soon as it did, I peeled myself off the leatherette seat and limped over to an old pecan tree, dropping onto the cool grass in the shade beneath it. Within seconds, Elise and Rachel joined me, followed by Becky.
“I’ll just sit here for a while,” she mumbled, handing us each a bottle of warm water.
“Welcome to Cloverdale Ranch,” Lance said, his eyes opening wide at the sight of us, dusty and soaking wet, before focusing on my black lace bra.
Yup, here we are, the only candidates in your wet t-shirt contest. Like what you see, pervert?
He frowned. “You should’ve mentioned you didn’t have air conditioning. I would’ve driven slower so you could’ve opened the windows or taken you around the long way.”
“Bite me,” I mumbled, too hot and too tired to care what he thought of me.
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.