Mini_NaNoWriMo 2009 - Day 11 - 894 words
Now that's more like it! The last couple of days writing has felt like a chore. I persevered, but I didn't have the same enjoyment in the process that I've been blessed with since Day 2.
I actually spent more time with the story than the 894 words. I went back to the beginning and did a line by line edit to try and jump-start my brain (because I had to make myself sit down and the keyboard again this evening). It worked! I got caught up in the chase again. Now I've gotten to the place where I actually had a break in the story and the next couple of pages are already written. I'm just one steamy sex scene and a bit away from finishing this bad boy! *G* I need a break to rest my eyes and then I'm probably going to write a little more.
But for now... .
Some of you might recognize this snippet. It's actually about 2 years old. I posted a poll with half a dozen snippets asking which one people thought I should work on. It was totally undecided and though I've been pecking away at all of them, this is the one that won the mini_nanowrimo lottery. *G* This isn't the final product because it definitively needs a beta.
Cash, Grass or Ass
Maybe it was the sound of the scuffle that lured Jeff around to the back of Sam’s Roadhouse-but those were common enough. Hell, any given week and there’d be a good knock-down drag-out come Friday or Saturday night. Good old boys just blowing off steam. And as long as they paid for their play and the blood didn’t get excessive, Sam didn’t mind. That was the nature of the business.
Maybe it was the sound of multiple voices, one of them crying out in pain that had caught Jeff’s attention. But Jeff had been known to mind his own business. A time or two anyway.
Maybe what pulled Jeff through the canyons of precisely parked trailer bodies and into the darkness was how young the voice calling out sounded. Jeff never could abide anyone beating on a kid.
But to be honest with himself-and Jeff tried to smear his life with as little self-bullshit as possible-it was probably the fact that Sully Carson’s gaudy-ass rig was parked out front like it was something to be proud of. Knowing Sully, which Jeff unfortunately did, he was probably in the middle of whatever was going down dirty.
It was just a lamentable fact of Jeff’s life that anymore, if he could poke a stick in that asshole’s spokes he was going to do it. He just couldn’t help himself.
What Jeff found wasn’t really a surprise.
Sully Carson and two other men were gathered around a sluggishly stirring figure on the ground.
“Get him belly down here,” Sully ordered, patting the top of a heavy plastic trash can with hollow thumps.
The beefy man that Jeff recognized as one of Sully’s occasional hyenas moved to help. Between the two of them, they jerked the slighter man off the ground and slung him face down across the top of the trash can.
The third man stood a couple of feet away, rocking from foot to foot. “Guys, I don’t know about this,” he said, scrubbing his palms down the legs of his grimy jeans.
“Don’t pussy out on me, man,” Sully said. “I’m just givin’ the little bitch what he’s been askin’ for all day.” Sully pushed the partially unconscious man’s jacket up his back and reached around, fumbling at his belt.
With a disconcertingly high pitched giggle for such a big man, the hyena grabbed their victim by the scruff of the neck and rubbed his crotch over the weakly protesting man’s face. “Maybe we ought a do something to keep that pretty mouth busy so he don’t make too much noise,” he leered suggestively.
“Get off me, motherfucker!” the man mumbled, suddenly coming to life. He nearly succeeded in tipping himself sideways onto the ground, but Sully grabbed tight to the man’s belt and hauled the man and the tilted trash can back on the square.
“Hold him, goddamnit!” Sully grunted as a mule kick caught him in the thigh, just inches shy of his crotch. “You’ll get your turn.”
Sully’s man cuffed their captive hard on the side of the head and then caught the man’s wrists. Squatting, he bore down hard, stretching the man’s shoulders at an unnatural angle and making him grunt in pain.
“Man, I don’t wanna have nothing to do with this!” the third man said, backing away. “You said you was just gonna rough the kid up a bit for being a tease- give him a scare. This shit is fucked up. I’m outta here.”
“Now, that’s the most intelligent thing I’ve heard in the last couple of minutes,” Jeff said laconically, strolling out of the shadows.
The nervous man didn’t say a word, he just jack-rabbited past Jeff and into the darkness.
Sully spun around, body tensed and ready for a fight, but he still pressed down on the weakly struggling man’s back, as though taking his hand off would mean relinquishing his claim. When he saw Jeff, Sully grinned big and nasty, leaning nonchalantly on the man’s back like he was a piece of furniture.
“Hey Morgan! How they hangin’?” Sully was trying to pass as unconcerned, but his voice was just off kilter, like an engine out of tune.
Now, the truth of it was, Sully Carson was a good looking man and he had a certain amount of charm and wit. Unfortunately both were about as deep and durable as wet newsprint. Too bad Jeff hadn’t realized that before he got to know Sully a whole lot better than he was comfortable remembering. Jeff just chalked it up to Gulf War Syndrome.
“Sully,” Jeff greeted him as tapped out a Camel and lit it. He’d mostly quit smoking, but occasionally it was a good distraction, for himself and for others. “I guess pickings have gotten a little slim for you since you need help holding them down now.”
Sully’s grin shrank a little, but that just seemed to condense the nasty in it. “You want a piece of this, Morgan? As I recall you’re particularly fond of male ass.”
The hyena snickered.
“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you, Sully?” Jeff countered quietly after a slow drag.
That killed the grin. “The kid’s just gettin’ what he asked for.”
“The only thing he seems to be asking for is to be let go,” Jeff pointed out.
“Hell, you know the rule of the road when you’re hitchin’: cash, grass or ass.”
Jeff was getting tired of that grin. He was going to have to think about getting rid of it permanently.
“Sully you really need to stop believing everything you read on the bumper of a car. I understand it’s a hard concept for you to grasp, but it’d just be better for everyone in the long haul.”
The inflection had flattened out of Sully’s voice. “I hear Sam’s got her kick-ass chili con carne tonight. You ought to go on and get you some.”
“Sounds good,” Jeff agreed. “I bet that young man would like some and I’m feeling in a generous mood. I think I’ll treat him to a bowl.”
“You need to mind your own business, Morgan.” Sully’s voice had dropped low and mean, like a mongrel growling over a threatened bone.
Jeff sighed and the cherry from his barely smoked Camel made an arc like a tracer round into the darkness as he flicked it away. He reached beneath the back of his jacket and slowly pulled the wrench from his waistband he’d tucked there as a reflex when he saw Sully’s rig out front.
“I guess I’m making this my business,” Jeff said softly.
The other man’s eyes focused momentarily on the wrench Jeff let slide down into his palm. Then Sully smirked and finally stepped away from his toy, his hand sliding behind his own back.
“Well ain’t you a stupid motherfucker for bringin’ a wrench to a knife fight,” Sully smirked, flicking open the five inch buck blade.
Jeff sighed again and loosened his stance. It was just like Sully to push it this far.
mini_nanowrimo 2009:
8751 / 10000 words. 88% done!
Yearly Total:
42419 / 55000 words. 77% done!
I actually spent more time with the story than the 894 words. I went back to the beginning and did a line by line edit to try and jump-start my brain (because I had to make myself sit down and the keyboard again this evening). It worked! I got caught up in the chase again. Now I've gotten to the place where I actually had a break in the story and the next couple of pages are already written. I'm just one steamy sex scene and a bit away from finishing this bad boy! *G* I need a break to rest my eyes and then I'm probably going to write a little more.
But for now... .
Some of you might recognize this snippet. It's actually about 2 years old. I posted a poll with half a dozen snippets asking which one people thought I should work on. It was totally undecided and though I've been pecking away at all of them, this is the one that won the mini_nanowrimo lottery. *G* This isn't the final product because it definitively needs a beta.
Cash, Grass or Ass
Maybe it was the sound of the scuffle that lured Jeff around to the back of Sam’s Roadhouse-but those were common enough. Hell, any given week and there’d be a good knock-down drag-out come Friday or Saturday night. Good old boys just blowing off steam. And as long as they paid for their play and the blood didn’t get excessive, Sam didn’t mind. That was the nature of the business.
Maybe it was the sound of multiple voices, one of them crying out in pain that had caught Jeff’s attention. But Jeff had been known to mind his own business. A time or two anyway.
Maybe what pulled Jeff through the canyons of precisely parked trailer bodies and into the darkness was how young the voice calling out sounded. Jeff never could abide anyone beating on a kid.
But to be honest with himself-and Jeff tried to smear his life with as little self-bullshit as possible-it was probably the fact that Sully Carson’s gaudy-ass rig was parked out front like it was something to be proud of. Knowing Sully, which Jeff unfortunately did, he was probably in the middle of whatever was going down dirty.
It was just a lamentable fact of Jeff’s life that anymore, if he could poke a stick in that asshole’s spokes he was going to do it. He just couldn’t help himself.
What Jeff found wasn’t really a surprise.
Sully Carson and two other men were gathered around a sluggishly stirring figure on the ground.
“Get him belly down here,” Sully ordered, patting the top of a heavy plastic trash can with hollow thumps.
The beefy man that Jeff recognized as one of Sully’s occasional hyenas moved to help. Between the two of them, they jerked the slighter man off the ground and slung him face down across the top of the trash can.
The third man stood a couple of feet away, rocking from foot to foot. “Guys, I don’t know about this,” he said, scrubbing his palms down the legs of his grimy jeans.
“Don’t pussy out on me, man,” Sully said. “I’m just givin’ the little bitch what he’s been askin’ for all day.” Sully pushed the partially unconscious man’s jacket up his back and reached around, fumbling at his belt.
With a disconcertingly high pitched giggle for such a big man, the hyena grabbed their victim by the scruff of the neck and rubbed his crotch over the weakly protesting man’s face. “Maybe we ought a do something to keep that pretty mouth busy so he don’t make too much noise,” he leered suggestively.
“Get off me, motherfucker!” the man mumbled, suddenly coming to life. He nearly succeeded in tipping himself sideways onto the ground, but Sully grabbed tight to the man’s belt and hauled the man and the tilted trash can back on the square.
“Hold him, goddamnit!” Sully grunted as a mule kick caught him in the thigh, just inches shy of his crotch. “You’ll get your turn.”
Sully’s man cuffed their captive hard on the side of the head and then caught the man’s wrists. Squatting, he bore down hard, stretching the man’s shoulders at an unnatural angle and making him grunt in pain.
“Man, I don’t wanna have nothing to do with this!” the third man said, backing away. “You said you was just gonna rough the kid up a bit for being a tease- give him a scare. This shit is fucked up. I’m outta here.”
“Now, that’s the most intelligent thing I’ve heard in the last couple of minutes,” Jeff said laconically, strolling out of the shadows.
The nervous man didn’t say a word, he just jack-rabbited past Jeff and into the darkness.
Sully spun around, body tensed and ready for a fight, but he still pressed down on the weakly struggling man’s back, as though taking his hand off would mean relinquishing his claim. When he saw Jeff, Sully grinned big and nasty, leaning nonchalantly on the man’s back like he was a piece of furniture.
“Hey Morgan! How they hangin’?” Sully was trying to pass as unconcerned, but his voice was just off kilter, like an engine out of tune.
Now, the truth of it was, Sully Carson was a good looking man and he had a certain amount of charm and wit. Unfortunately both were about as deep and durable as wet newsprint. Too bad Jeff hadn’t realized that before he got to know Sully a whole lot better than he was comfortable remembering. Jeff just chalked it up to Gulf War Syndrome.
“Sully,” Jeff greeted him as tapped out a Camel and lit it. He’d mostly quit smoking, but occasionally it was a good distraction, for himself and for others. “I guess pickings have gotten a little slim for you since you need help holding them down now.”
Sully’s grin shrank a little, but that just seemed to condense the nasty in it. “You want a piece of this, Morgan? As I recall you’re particularly fond of male ass.”
The hyena snickered.
“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you, Sully?” Jeff countered quietly after a slow drag.
That killed the grin. “The kid’s just gettin’ what he asked for.”
“The only thing he seems to be asking for is to be let go,” Jeff pointed out.
“Hell, you know the rule of the road when you’re hitchin’: cash, grass or ass.”
Jeff was getting tired of that grin. He was going to have to think about getting rid of it permanently.
“Sully you really need to stop believing everything you read on the bumper of a car. I understand it’s a hard concept for you to grasp, but it’d just be better for everyone in the long haul.”
The inflection had flattened out of Sully’s voice. “I hear Sam’s got her kick-ass chili con carne tonight. You ought to go on and get you some.”
“Sounds good,” Jeff agreed. “I bet that young man would like some and I’m feeling in a generous mood. I think I’ll treat him to a bowl.”
“You need to mind your own business, Morgan.” Sully’s voice had dropped low and mean, like a mongrel growling over a threatened bone.
Jeff sighed and the cherry from his barely smoked Camel made an arc like a tracer round into the darkness as he flicked it away. He reached beneath the back of his jacket and slowly pulled the wrench from his waistband he’d tucked there as a reflex when he saw Sully’s rig out front.
“I guess I’m making this my business,” Jeff said softly.
The other man’s eyes focused momentarily on the wrench Jeff let slide down into his palm. Then Sully smirked and finally stepped away from his toy, his hand sliding behind his own back.
“Well ain’t you a stupid motherfucker for bringin’ a wrench to a knife fight,” Sully smirked, flicking open the five inch buck blade.
Jeff sighed again and loosened his stance. It was just like Sully to push it this far.
mini_nanowrimo 2009:
8751 / 10000 words. 88% done!
Yearly Total:
42419 / 55000 words. 77% done!