I’m back with more of the new WIP, Speed Date. It’s a short story I have hopes of turning into a novella or novel.
This excerpt is from where I left off last week, including the eight from Weekend Writing Warriors. Roberta goes on her first speed date.
“Never.” I tried to smile as if that didn’t make me sound like I was finally desperate enough to try anything. “Are you from the area?”
“No, I transferred six months ago from Ft. Belvoir. But I’m originally from Oklahoma. You?”
“Yep. Born and raised in Tidewater. I live on the Eastern Shore.” I was supposed to tell these men the truth, right? Concern flared. What if he was a serial killer? At least he didn’t know where on the Eastern Shore.
“What’s your MOS?” I saw a flicker of surprise? respect? appear in his eyes. I knew his jargon. I might actually be salvageable.
“Counter-terrorism.” Oh, Jesus. TMD—Total Military Drama. “What do you do?”
“I’m manager for an apartment complex.” I’m as boring as they come. Please go away.
“Do you like to party? Know all the great hot spots around here?”
Translation: do you know where the party is or are you a total nerd?
“I’ve heard Contraband is the bomb in Norfolk.” Crap! Bomb is not the word you want to use with someone in CT. But he didn’t go into ninja mode, so I ventured a question. “What type of music do you like? Something like fusion jazz?”
He gave me the stricken look of a deer in headlights.
I made my face slacken a trifle. “Aww. Five minutes goes by too fast, doesn’t it?
He stood. “Yes, well, um..nice to meet you…uh…Roberta.”
At least he did remember it. Finally. “You too, George.”
As he moved on to his next table, I made a sharp flick though the number one
on what I termed my “dance card.” One down, nineteen to go. Twenty dates in two hours.
Considering my current track record was three dates in two years—dates, mind you, not relationships—I was in for an extraordinarily long dry spell starting tomorrow. Cramming twenty dates into one evening was just tempting Fate to decree no more until mid-June 2028. At least that meant I could get a date for my 50th birthday party. Yippee!
Meanwhile, date number two sat down in front of me. Tall, thin, curly dark hair, prominent Adam’s apple.
“Hi, my name is Stephen.”
“Hi, I’m Roberta.”
I will never drink again, so help me God.
I hope you enjoyed that little snippet. There will be more from Speed Date tomorrow on Weekend Writing Warriors! But for now, you should check out some more Saturday Samples. Thanks for coming by!