Progress report and update.
Part Four of Otherside is up.
Also, I've started the next one in the series and have about 5300 words and a tentative title.
It’s busy, a Thursday night, and Dean strolls down the street, looking at each bar and pub, trying to find one that looks as if it might have easy marks. He’s a couple blocks down when he sees a good one, lots of people going in and out, everyone smiling, having a good time, so Dean goes to the door. Two girls are on their way out, so he holds the door open for them, looking them over but being casual, easy, about it. The first girl, tiny little blonde with a gorgeous, if half-drunk, smile, thanks him and then giggles.
The second girl makes Dean do a double-take. She’s easily as tall as him, and it’s automatic to look and see how high her heels are; he raises an eyebrow when he sees she’s wearing sandals that rest flat on the ground. He smiles at her, another pretty blonde, wavy hair and open hazel eyes, eyes that remind Dean a little too much of Sam’s. She smiles back, opens her mouth to say thank you, he thinks, but she stops before she says anything, frowns and gives him a closer look.
The first girl tugs on her hand, says, “Jess, c’mon, who knows what the boys’ve been up to,” but the second girl, Jess, shakes her head and holds her ground.
“Becky, God, hold on,” she mutters, and as Dean’s trying to find a way to get past the two, Jess says, “Dean?” He stiffens, looks at her again, closer, trying to see if her face jogs any memories, anything that might tell him why and how this random chick in San Francisco knows his name.
“Oh, you’re kidding, right?” Becky says, low husky voice threaded through alcohol and laughter. “Dean? Now you’re seeing things like Sam, come on, let’s go.”
Also, Mel? I updated the other post, so go have a look.
Also, I've started the next one in the series and have about 5300 words and a tentative title.
It’s busy, a Thursday night, and Dean strolls down the street, looking at each bar and pub, trying to find one that looks as if it might have easy marks. He’s a couple blocks down when he sees a good one, lots of people going in and out, everyone smiling, having a good time, so Dean goes to the door. Two girls are on their way out, so he holds the door open for them, looking them over but being casual, easy, about it. The first girl, tiny little blonde with a gorgeous, if half-drunk, smile, thanks him and then giggles.
The second girl makes Dean do a double-take. She’s easily as tall as him, and it’s automatic to look and see how high her heels are; he raises an eyebrow when he sees she’s wearing sandals that rest flat on the ground. He smiles at her, another pretty blonde, wavy hair and open hazel eyes, eyes that remind Dean a little too much of Sam’s. She smiles back, opens her mouth to say thank you, he thinks, but she stops before she says anything, frowns and gives him a closer look.
The first girl tugs on her hand, says, “Jess, c’mon, who knows what the boys’ve been up to,” but the second girl, Jess, shakes her head and holds her ground.
“Becky, God, hold on,” she mutters, and as Dean’s trying to find a way to get past the two, Jess says, “Dean?” He stiffens, looks at her again, closer, trying to see if her face jogs any memories, anything that might tell him why and how this random chick in San Francisco knows his name.
“Oh, you’re kidding, right?” Becky says, low husky voice threaded through alcohol and laughter. “Dean? Now you’re seeing things like Sam, come on, let’s go.”
Also, Mel? I updated the other post, so go have a look.