5.

Prompt by StaceLeo: Tourette Syndrome

I wasn't sure how to even approach Bella regarding her soon to be ex-husband. I hardly knew her, but after just three days, I was already in a world of hurt. I'd convinced myself that I could handle this and I wouldn't need to involve her; I was starting a career in Investigation; (Bella insisted I refer to myself as a 'Securities Officer' but I thought it sounded pretentious. We eventually agreed on 'Private Investigator'. She said 'Spy' made her think of the Hardy Boys—she had a point) I should be able to handle a disgruntled ex. But what Bella failed to mention was that her ex had ties to some rather shady characters (a gym membership, which he used six days a week), and had a lot of power and influence.

So I did what any upstanding, courageous P.I. would do… I hid.

Apparently, he'd been following Bella and had seen us going to lunch. Because we were having a good time, he assumed it was a date. The overgrown douche showed up at my house that night to give me a tip: "Leave my wife alone or I will have you buried under six feet of concrete." I'd stare at him, mouth hanging open unsure of what to even say. I'd like to say that I laughed, called him an emasculating name, then slammed the door in his face. Yeah, no. I may have peed myself a little—he was pretty big— broke our eye contact, looked at my wingtips, said, "sorry, sir," and closed the door quietly.

I'd never been threatened before and didn't know what to do, so I did what most men without gym memberships did: I panicked. No need to tell me what a pussy I am, as I'm all too aware, but I had to be careful. I would need to be smart about how to take care of this. I was all prepared to man-up this morning and call in a few of my own favors... until I went to get in my car, which was parked on the street, front windshield completely missing, and the roof caved in. There was a note on the steering wheel: Next time… your face.

Okay then, I've been told I'm a fast learner.

So I sent her an email instead, and avoided her like the plague. I needed to buy myself some time to think about things. Luck finally played on my side when the owner of a night club a few blocks over called the previous evening and said he had someone spray-painting homophobic slurs on the side of his building, needing me to investigate. It wasn't a difficult job, probably just a night or two of recon and some pictures, but it was our first paying gig; there's no job too small.

After a quick Google search, I'd gathered that The Silver Stallion was a gay club, (can I say that, still? I'm not sure if it's PC? Maybe 'alternative lifestyle participants gathering place'?) and was owned by Emmett McCarty and Earl Healios. I was set to meet them at eleven to go over some historical information, and to set terms and pricing. I was also pretty eager to meet another business in the neighborhood and get our networking list started.

I spent much of the morning thinking about Bella and how I was going to deal with her apparently steroid enraged ex. I was going to have to use brains over brawn in order to come out on top. Women loved men who flexed their muscles and used overt neanderthal gestures to win them back. And since I didn't posses a lot of muscles and more than a few generations removed from a cave man, I was going to have to think this through and come up with a smart plan. It had been quite some time since I'd been taken with a woman, and I wasn't prepared to give up just yet. Sure, it would have been super easy to just walk right into the office and demand, "Miss Swan, you're fired. Get your shit and get out!" But I think we all know I just don't have it in me.

I knew I'd have to tell her the truth, about her ex-husband and how I was feeling about her, and I'd even plotted out much of my speech. I know I couldn't wing it— I could definitely see Bella thinking I was diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome, stuttering, blinking uncontrollably, and letting the occasional inappropriately placed curse word slip out. I got nervous when I talked to women, but telling a beautiful, newly divorced woman that I liked her—especially one I'd only known for a week—that was enough to give any guy a syndrome.

After I'd worked a a good start of bullet points for my confession to Bella, I decided to head over to The Silver Stallion and get our first official job underway. I walked with drive and purpose in my step knowing that today was going to be full of change, both personally and professionally; I was ready.

xx

I walked the perimeter of the building noting the graffiti recently sprayed on the side of the building. It appeared to be amateurish and my first assertion was to look to a juvenile crowd. I wasn't going to overlook a pool of suspects outside of the teen scene, but it certainly would be at the top of my list of interested parties.

I stood in front of the red double doors at 10:45 wondering if I was fashionably early or rudely premature. After a moment, I decided on the optimistic: fashionably early. I hadn't stepped inside for more than a few moments letting my eyes adjust to the stark contrast from daylight to bar-light when a large statuesque blonde akin to Jessica Rabbit addressed me with a sultry, "Well, hel-lo there, Sugar-Bugar."


Oh, goodness. Edward really appears to be stuck in a Dick Tracey comic book- huh?

The deal: I'll write a chapter for every prompt I get. Your prompt can be 1 word, or an idea. Prompts are still open!

Chapter length: minimum 1000

Prompts (will be updated with new prompts as they are added):

Prompts used:

Starting a new ; I was at a spy movie; Rain; The Silver Stallion; Tourette Syndrome

Prompts left:

Bonnie and Clyde; southern feel; Pork butts, Doughnut maker; kilt; doughnuts for breakfast; The stretches of these rain-soaked roads*; Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out; standing stones.

Join us, you know you wanna!