NaNoWriMo -- Day 1
First Day word count -- 1,767
“ Look - In a couple of days I'm getting married. And you ain't stopping me.”
Jake Coltrane stared down at the kid blocking the door. Hell, he isn't even a rent-a-cop. Just some convention lacky.
The kid crossed his arms. Jake recognized that the kid was scared. It showed in the nervous way that he shifted back and forth from foot to foot and in the way he tried to puff himself up to look bigger. But the kid had a t-shirt that said security. Jake had a badge and a taser.
“Sorry, but convention rules state that no-one who works for the government--” he said the last word as if were a dirty word. His face twisted like he was eating something disgusting as he stared at Jakes' badge with a sneer. “--are allowed in the hotel.”
Jake frowned as a couple pushed past him. The guy had his hair dyed green. The girl had antennas. Between them, they were carrying a nine-foot inflatable alien.
Damned alien convention, he thought with a sour frown.
“Kid,” he said. “Do I look like some kind of man-in-black?”
The kid looked Jake up and down. For the first time in his life, Jake was conscious of the contradictions his appearance presented. Long hair, which he'd pulled back to appease Rachel. His good flannel shirt and faded jeans. The badge pinned to the shirt pocket and hanging slightly forward on the soft material.
“Mister,” the kid said. “I can't tell if you're a mountain man or an old Hippie.” The kid also got louder with each word. “You can't come in.” That was more puffing up. Say something once, and if someone acted like they didn't understand, just repeat it verbatim, only louder. Jake hated when people did that.
“Screw pacifism,” Jake said as he reached for the taser.
“Jake!”
Jake recognized Dr. Dave's voice in an instant. It was the perpetually worried sound that always gave him away. Instantly, he pulled his hand back from the weapon.
“Dave,” He nodded.
Dr. Dave took one look at Jake's lock-and-load stance, then at the rent-a-cop and did the mental math.
“You were just about to meet with Rachel and the wedding planner weren't you?”
“I was,” Jake said through clenched teeth. “But an alien convention is standing in my way.”
David looked at the kid the way an undertaker might size up a quick-draw contender. Personally, Jake thought that the kid looked the way Gumby might if he spent too long in front of a computer screen.
“Jake, if you're too late, Rachell'll kill you.”
“I know that!”
“I'm just sayin' that burying a body takes time.” David threw his hands up defensively.
“We can make it look real accidental-like,”Jake said.
“And an investigation would really delay you,” David reasoned.
“Fine!” Jake's stance went from ready to defeated in one breath. “I'm open to suggestions.”
“Let me run talk to Rachel,” David said. “Maybe we can think of something.” As he left, he took one parting look at the kid. Jake heard him mutter. “Poor kid doesn't even know how close he is to needing me.”
# # #
The Hotel Des Portiers stood at the summit of a mountain overlooking Lake Tranquility. It looked like a four-story Gothic nightmare of heavy limestone, gabled roofs and jutting towers that seemed to scrape the blue sky overhead. According to the locals who drank coffee with David every morning at the Tranquility Diner and Coin-Operated Laundromat, the hotel had been built sometime in the last century before there was a Lake Tranquility to take advantage of the local rail system, and the stopping vacationers who wanted to get out of the city and see the surrounding Ozark mountains.
When David had first moved here, it had been a decrepit mess. Even now, when he looked at it, he expected to hear the piping of a heavy organ theme music, and see Dracula flitting from window to window.
The town really had something to talk about when a developer bought the hotel a few months back, and began restoring it. The renovations provided a shot-in-the arm to Tranquility's constantly teetering economy, and promised more of the same when the hotel opened. At the same time, the construction workers fueled local imaginations with stories of secret passageways, haunted rooms, and a basement morgue.
And so far the outlook was promising. What with it hosting Jake and Rachel's upcoming wedding, which was already the talk of the town. But in David's estimate, the hotel might be a little overbooked. Considering that they were trying to plan the wedding while at the same time holding a convention for serious UFO enthusiasts.
As he opened the ornately-carved door, David passed a portly man in a pompadour and a rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit. David paused, and glanced back over his shoulder. Across the back of the jumpsuit, the words The King were stenciled in Rhinestones.
David found Rachel standing before the doors of the Hotel Ballroom, looking fit to murder someone. Her arms were crossed, legs akimbo in a pose reminiscent to Jake's lock-and-load stance. A scowl was firmly etched into her face. One look at her, and David was suddenly more fearful for the life of the rent-a-cop downstairs.
It might have been a kindness to just let Jake shoot him, the doctor thought ruefully. Before David could slip away, Rachel spotted him.
“Dr. Dave!” She probably intended to call out to him gently, but her voice was strident like a gunshot. David barely resisted the urge to duck-and-cover. Instead he gave an involuntary full-body twitch. His gaze shifted right, then left. But he was caught.
Rachel moved toward him like a United States Marine storming Iwo Jima.
“Have you seen Jake?”
“Er . . . Yeah. . .” David glanced to the side, and noticed his sometimes girlfiend, Average Jones, standing in the shadow of the ballroom doorway and trying to be inconspicuous. He looked imploringly to her in an unspoken request to be saved. Average's eyes widened like a frightened doe in response and she shook her head negatory.
David responded with a bug-eyed glare; trying to re-emphasize his initial request.
“Hey!” Rachel snapped her fingers infront of David's face. “I'm over here! Make goo-goo eyes at Average later.”
David's eyes snapped forward to fix on Rachel's scowling face.
“Where's Jake?” She demanded.
“He's trying to get her,” David smiled apologetically. “Convention security is giving him problems.”
“Problems,” Rachel's nostrils flared. She turned on her heel, and stomped off down the hall. As she was leaving, David could hear her angry muttering. “I'll give them some problems.”
When she was gone, David breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to Average, and for the first time noticed a nervous, wormy-looking man in a rumpled suit and red tie stumble out from his hiding place behind Average. He adjusted his tie, nodded to David, and ran after Rachel.
David blinked in confusion as he turned his attention back to her.
“Who was that?”
“That's the hotel manager . . . I think.” Average moved out of the shadow of the doorway. As she did, David could see that she was wearing a plaid corset and skirts that trailed the ground.
“Did you get mugged by a passing renaissance festival? David asked in confusion.
Average glanced down at her dress, then glared at David.
“This is my bridesmaid's dress.”
“Are we having a wedding or the highland games?”
“Very funny,” Average crossed her arms and leaned back against the door frame. “You haven't tried on your own outfit yet, laughing boy.”
“Huh?” David's mirth vanished.
“Remember when Jake and Rachel got engaged? How he said he would give her anything she wanted?”
“Vaguely,” David said uneasily.
“Well, she wants a renaissance theme wedding.”
“You're kidding, right?”
Average smiled sweetly. “We haven't decided whether to put you guys in kilts, or hose.”
“Kilts?”
“Or hose.”
“Jake never mentioned that.”
“I don't think he knows yet.”
“You know what he's going to say, don't you?”
Average's acid smile melted into a more genuine one. “I have some idea,” she said.
“There's no way that I'm going to wear a dress . . . or tights.” David mimicked Jake's rural southern cadence, which brought a giggle from Average. He shook his head ruefully. “What is she thinking?”
“I'm not sure that she is,” Average shook her head. “You know Rae has only ever loved Jake, right?”
“No, I didn't,” David shook his head. “So even in her teens?”
“Yeah and all that time, Jake was with Anna,” Average said.
“And Rachel stayed best friends with Anna all that time.” David recalled the stories that Rachel and Average had told about their teen years togeather.
“Uh huh,” Average nodded. “I don't think she ever thought she'd get married. It was Jake or nothing. So now that she's actually getting to walk down the asile . . .”
“She's morphing into Bridezilla?” David supplied.
“She just wants things to be perfect,” Average said diplomatically. “You know - like the fairy tale ending.”
“So why not get married at Disneyland?”
“David,” Average pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “You're not helping.”
Upon seeing Average's tired pose, David's mirth evaporated. “Hey,” he said gently as he placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into his arms. There were times - now being one of them - that he forgot about her emphatic abilities. He made soothing noises in her ear as he rubbed circles on her shoulder.
In a town where everyone was a bit off-kilter, Average's special gifts were actually very low-key. Especially when compared with Rachel's ability to talk to animals, Jake's never ending lucky streak, or David's secretary, Mrs. Paulson's precognitive abilities. He made soothing noises in her ear as he rubbed circles on her shoulder.
Holding her this close, he suddenly realized how nicely that corset augmented her figure.
“Don't even start,” Average pulled away slightly and poked at his chest in a playful gesture.
“Empaths,” David said lightly, allowing a lazy, relaxed smile to cross his face.
“I didn't know there was more than one of us,” Average said.
“You're one of a kind,” David agreed.
“Hm,” Average rested her head on David's shoulder. “I needed this.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“Maybe,” Average said. “But first I'd like to get out of this corset.”
“Need help?” David asked.
“Maybe later,” Average shook her head. “I actually do want to talk right now.”
“ Look - In a couple of days I'm getting married. And you ain't stopping me.”
Jake Coltrane stared down at the kid blocking the door. Hell, he isn't even a rent-a-cop. Just some convention lacky.
The kid crossed his arms. Jake recognized that the kid was scared. It showed in the nervous way that he shifted back and forth from foot to foot and in the way he tried to puff himself up to look bigger. But the kid had a t-shirt that said security. Jake had a badge and a taser.
“Sorry, but convention rules state that no-one who works for the government--” he said the last word as if were a dirty word. His face twisted like he was eating something disgusting as he stared at Jakes' badge with a sneer. “--are allowed in the hotel.”
Jake frowned as a couple pushed past him. The guy had his hair dyed green. The girl had antennas. Between them, they were carrying a nine-foot inflatable alien.
Damned alien convention, he thought with a sour frown.
“Kid,” he said. “Do I look like some kind of man-in-black?”
The kid looked Jake up and down. For the first time in his life, Jake was conscious of the contradictions his appearance presented. Long hair, which he'd pulled back to appease Rachel. His good flannel shirt and faded jeans. The badge pinned to the shirt pocket and hanging slightly forward on the soft material.
“Mister,” the kid said. “I can't tell if you're a mountain man or an old Hippie.” The kid also got louder with each word. “You can't come in.” That was more puffing up. Say something once, and if someone acted like they didn't understand, just repeat it verbatim, only louder. Jake hated when people did that.
“Screw pacifism,” Jake said as he reached for the taser.
“Jake!”
Jake recognized Dr. Dave's voice in an instant. It was the perpetually worried sound that always gave him away. Instantly, he pulled his hand back from the weapon.
“Dave,” He nodded.
Dr. Dave took one look at Jake's lock-and-load stance, then at the rent-a-cop and did the mental math.
“You were just about to meet with Rachel and the wedding planner weren't you?”
“I was,” Jake said through clenched teeth. “But an alien convention is standing in my way.”
David looked at the kid the way an undertaker might size up a quick-draw contender. Personally, Jake thought that the kid looked the way Gumby might if he spent too long in front of a computer screen.
“Jake, if you're too late, Rachell'll kill you.”
“I know that!”
“I'm just sayin' that burying a body takes time.” David threw his hands up defensively.
“We can make it look real accidental-like,”Jake said.
“And an investigation would really delay you,” David reasoned.
“Fine!” Jake's stance went from ready to defeated in one breath. “I'm open to suggestions.”
“Let me run talk to Rachel,” David said. “Maybe we can think of something.” As he left, he took one parting look at the kid. Jake heard him mutter. “Poor kid doesn't even know how close he is to needing me.”
# # #
The Hotel Des Portiers stood at the summit of a mountain overlooking Lake Tranquility. It looked like a four-story Gothic nightmare of heavy limestone, gabled roofs and jutting towers that seemed to scrape the blue sky overhead. According to the locals who drank coffee with David every morning at the Tranquility Diner and Coin-Operated Laundromat, the hotel had been built sometime in the last century before there was a Lake Tranquility to take advantage of the local rail system, and the stopping vacationers who wanted to get out of the city and see the surrounding Ozark mountains.
When David had first moved here, it had been a decrepit mess. Even now, when he looked at it, he expected to hear the piping of a heavy organ theme music, and see Dracula flitting from window to window.
The town really had something to talk about when a developer bought the hotel a few months back, and began restoring it. The renovations provided a shot-in-the arm to Tranquility's constantly teetering economy, and promised more of the same when the hotel opened. At the same time, the construction workers fueled local imaginations with stories of secret passageways, haunted rooms, and a basement morgue.
And so far the outlook was promising. What with it hosting Jake and Rachel's upcoming wedding, which was already the talk of the town. But in David's estimate, the hotel might be a little overbooked. Considering that they were trying to plan the wedding while at the same time holding a convention for serious UFO enthusiasts.
As he opened the ornately-carved door, David passed a portly man in a pompadour and a rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit. David paused, and glanced back over his shoulder. Across the back of the jumpsuit, the words The King were stenciled in Rhinestones.
David found Rachel standing before the doors of the Hotel Ballroom, looking fit to murder someone. Her arms were crossed, legs akimbo in a pose reminiscent to Jake's lock-and-load stance. A scowl was firmly etched into her face. One look at her, and David was suddenly more fearful for the life of the rent-a-cop downstairs.
It might have been a kindness to just let Jake shoot him, the doctor thought ruefully. Before David could slip away, Rachel spotted him.
“Dr. Dave!” She probably intended to call out to him gently, but her voice was strident like a gunshot. David barely resisted the urge to duck-and-cover. Instead he gave an involuntary full-body twitch. His gaze shifted right, then left. But he was caught.
Rachel moved toward him like a United States Marine storming Iwo Jima.
“Have you seen Jake?”
“Er . . . Yeah. . .” David glanced to the side, and noticed his sometimes girlfiend, Average Jones, standing in the shadow of the ballroom doorway and trying to be inconspicuous. He looked imploringly to her in an unspoken request to be saved. Average's eyes widened like a frightened doe in response and she shook her head negatory.
David responded with a bug-eyed glare; trying to re-emphasize his initial request.
“Hey!” Rachel snapped her fingers infront of David's face. “I'm over here! Make goo-goo eyes at Average later.”
David's eyes snapped forward to fix on Rachel's scowling face.
“Where's Jake?” She demanded.
“He's trying to get her,” David smiled apologetically. “Convention security is giving him problems.”
“Problems,” Rachel's nostrils flared. She turned on her heel, and stomped off down the hall. As she was leaving, David could hear her angry muttering. “I'll give them some problems.”
When she was gone, David breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to Average, and for the first time noticed a nervous, wormy-looking man in a rumpled suit and red tie stumble out from his hiding place behind Average. He adjusted his tie, nodded to David, and ran after Rachel.
David blinked in confusion as he turned his attention back to her.
“Who was that?”
“That's the hotel manager . . . I think.” Average moved out of the shadow of the doorway. As she did, David could see that she was wearing a plaid corset and skirts that trailed the ground.
“Did you get mugged by a passing renaissance festival? David asked in confusion.
Average glanced down at her dress, then glared at David.
“This is my bridesmaid's dress.”
“Are we having a wedding or the highland games?”
“Very funny,” Average crossed her arms and leaned back against the door frame. “You haven't tried on your own outfit yet, laughing boy.”
“Huh?” David's mirth vanished.
“Remember when Jake and Rachel got engaged? How he said he would give her anything she wanted?”
“Vaguely,” David said uneasily.
“Well, she wants a renaissance theme wedding.”
“You're kidding, right?”
Average smiled sweetly. “We haven't decided whether to put you guys in kilts, or hose.”
“Kilts?”
“Or hose.”
“Jake never mentioned that.”
“I don't think he knows yet.”
“You know what he's going to say, don't you?”
Average's acid smile melted into a more genuine one. “I have some idea,” she said.
“There's no way that I'm going to wear a dress . . . or tights.” David mimicked Jake's rural southern cadence, which brought a giggle from Average. He shook his head ruefully. “What is she thinking?”
“I'm not sure that she is,” Average shook her head. “You know Rae has only ever loved Jake, right?”
“No, I didn't,” David shook his head. “So even in her teens?”
“Yeah and all that time, Jake was with Anna,” Average said.
“And Rachel stayed best friends with Anna all that time.” David recalled the stories that Rachel and Average had told about their teen years togeather.
“Uh huh,” Average nodded. “I don't think she ever thought she'd get married. It was Jake or nothing. So now that she's actually getting to walk down the asile . . .”
“She's morphing into Bridezilla?” David supplied.
“She just wants things to be perfect,” Average said diplomatically. “You know - like the fairy tale ending.”
“So why not get married at Disneyland?”
“David,” Average pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “You're not helping.”
Upon seeing Average's tired pose, David's mirth evaporated. “Hey,” he said gently as he placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into his arms. There were times - now being one of them - that he forgot about her emphatic abilities. He made soothing noises in her ear as he rubbed circles on her shoulder.
In a town where everyone was a bit off-kilter, Average's special gifts were actually very low-key. Especially when compared with Rachel's ability to talk to animals, Jake's never ending lucky streak, or David's secretary, Mrs. Paulson's precognitive abilities. He made soothing noises in her ear as he rubbed circles on her shoulder.
Holding her this close, he suddenly realized how nicely that corset augmented her figure.
“Don't even start,” Average pulled away slightly and poked at his chest in a playful gesture.
“Empaths,” David said lightly, allowing a lazy, relaxed smile to cross his face.
“I didn't know there was more than one of us,” Average said.
“You're one of a kind,” David agreed.
“Hm,” Average rested her head on David's shoulder. “I needed this.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“Maybe,” Average said. “But first I'd like to get out of this corset.”
“Need help?” David asked.
“Maybe later,” Average shook her head. “I actually do want to talk right now.”