The Writer's Life: The Writer's Life 4/22

There was no book shop today, as I accompanied a friend on a visit to the doctor. Here's my latest short story, which has progressed through a second draft and revision. It will not change much from here. It's about 1100 words, a less than ten-minute read. The title is Decisive:
The buzzer sounded and she breezed into the jewelry shop. “Hello,” she said, smiling broadly, the sole customer. She browsed a while. Finally she summoned one of the two men at the counter and pointed out three expensive bracelets she wanted to examine closely.
"Take your time," said the young man. "We don't get movie stars in here too often."
  "That's so sweet. Thank you." She wasn't about to say he was mistaken, especially since he may only have been flirting, softening a potential cash cow.
She chose the most expensive, $25,000, and gave the guy a hang dog look. "Can you give me a break on it? How 'bout twenty?"
"Twenty-two."
  "Twenty-one-five."
  He smiled. "Deal. Credit?"
  She dug her wallet out of her bag and handed him a card. Minutes later he returned, beaming.
"Okay, Miss Smith. Would you like it gift-wrapped?"
She shook her head. "No. It's for me -- a gift to myself."
"Excellent."
  She put the box in her bag, looked the man in the eye, and said: "Thank you. Bye."
She paused at the door, as there was a dapper young man beyond it, waiting to be admitted. She stood aside for him, gazing up into his brown eyes.
Wow, she thought -- hot, hot, hot.
  She crossed the street and focused on the entrance. There had been something about Mr. Handsome that raised her antenna. Suddenly two gunshots rang out. “Uh-oh.” She crouched behind an SUV. Moments later Mr. Handsome exited calmly, satchel in hand, and turned right.
“Not cool.” She had committed many crimes but never killed anyone. She doubted she could.
She hurried to a nearby subway station and went almost all the way to the front of the platform. She boarded the second car. Midday, it was empty when it crossed into Brooklyn. She removed the blonde wig and blue contact lenses and stuffed them in a black plastic bag. Her head was shaved to a dark nub. She cut the credit card in two and, once back on the street, deposited each half into a separate trash can.
Soon she was in her apartment in Williamsburg. The window offered a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline. She put the wig on a white cast of a head, in line with four others, each a different color. She closed the blinds and flopped onto the bed, chuckling at having been taken for a movie star.
After dinner she went online, searching for news of the robbery. The men at the counter were alive, having only been shot in the leg.
“Hmmm. Maybe he is cool.” She found it curious that he would have left witnesses, given the security cameras in the area.
   Late the next morning she went into a crowded fast food restaurant, bought a cup of coffee, and asked for the key to the rest room. She poured the coffee into the bowl and flushed. She emerged in a red wig and green lenses.
   She entered a nearby pawn shop, where a man smiled and pressed a button that released a lock on a door.
   “Hey, Charlie,” she said to a white-haired man inside a steel cage.
   He shook his head. “Again? You’re beggin to get busted at this pace, doll.”
   “Let me worry about that.” She handed him the bracelet.
   He whistled in admiration. “Nice score. Five?”
   She made a face. “No way. Eight or I go someplace else, and you lose a good customer.”
   “Okay, doll. Can’t blame a guy for tryin’.”
   The buzzer sounded. She looked over her shoulder, and her breath caught. Even if she hadn’t recognized the satchel, and despite the sunglasses, there was that same recognizable something about Mr.-Tall-Dark-and-Handsome, who was now sans mustache.
   “Do I know you?” he said, looking into her eyes.
   She was surprised the red wig made such a difference. “No, but that can be arranged. I’ll be waiting outside.”
   Moments later he exited grinning.
   “Nice payday?” she said.
   “Lunch is on me. I have to make a stop first. Got time?”
   She loved the deepness of his voice. “Sure. I’m self-employed. Didn’t Charlie tell you? I’m Cindy, by the way.”
   “Joe.”
   His sports car was nearby. It was what she’d expected. She experienced a thrill as he held the passenger door open and she seated herself. Very cool, she thought.
   Suddenly his mood changed, becoming serious, his replies short. He pulled into an underground parking lot and found a spot in a far corner. She wondered what he would be buying or selling here.
   “It was you at the jewelry shop yesterday, wasn’t it?”
   She chuckled. “I knew you were too sharp not to figure it out. Two bump-intos in less than twenty-four hours -- can’t be a coincidence. We should think about a partnership.”
   “You move fast.”
   “I’ve always been decisive. It’s one of my strengths.”
   “Me too.”
   He leaned toward her. She welcomed the kiss. Soon his hands were around her throat, thumbs pressed to her windpipe. His grip was powerful.
   “Sorry, kid -- no witnesses.”
   The quarters were so cramped and he was so close that she had little room to fight. She had one chance, a long shot. She reached behind and found what she’d hoped tucked into his pants at the small of his back. She pressed the gun against his abdomen and fired. The force catapulted him backward, his head striking the side window.
   She lay back, panting, gathering her senses, ears ringing. When she recovered she was startled by the hole the round had blown into him. Blood was pouring from him. She did not understand how she could have been so mistaken. What had happened to her radar? He'd remorsely shot two people, for God's sake!
   She looked around before opening the door. No one was in sight. Cool, cool, cool, she repeated to herself, taking deep breaths. She realized the lenses, which had her fingerprints on them, had popped out of her eyes. She squatted at the foot of the seat and scanned the interior, finding one lens, then the other, breathing a sigh of relief. She pondered what to do with the gun. Detectives would spot a suicide set up. She wiped her prints away and left it in the car. She was about to step away when she recalled the wig. She looked into the side view mirror and straightened it, then put the lenses over her eyes, with difficulty, her hands shaking. She found her way out of the lot, repeating her mantra. Cool, cool, cool… Within two hours she was at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, boarding a bus. It was time to visit mom.

Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh

Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3

Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/pdxwsnt

Vic's Rom-Com Screenplay: http://tinyurl.com/kny5llp

Vic's Horror Screenplay: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3f

Vic's Blog: http://vicfortezza.blogspot.com/

Vic's Web Site: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/