8/07/2013

Stolen Moment...WIP WEDNESDAY with Chance Dumont

My current project is the fifth Chances Are book, the last one in the series. It's not quite farewell for Chance and Rory, but its very hard to write. I can't say too much, because Laura and Havan will never let me live it down if I do, but just wait- December will bring a surprise for all our Pulp Friction Fans. 

Meanwhile, Chance has problems that need to be resolved, and this is where I am. (Please remember that this is first draft, unedited ms)


Chance in Hell 

copyright Aug. 2013 Lee Brazil

"I think it's best, don't you?" His brow wrinkled as his cell phone beeped and he reached for it. Anyone else might have missed the hesitation, the dread in his eyes as he checked the caller. I wasn't just anyone. I'd known Cannon long enough and well enough to recognize the fear behind his actions.
He swallowed and put the phone away without answering it.
"Something wrong Cannon?"
"Just a guy who won't take no for an answer."
"Oh yeah? Want me to have a word with him?" The offer was out before I realized how it would look, me warning guys off my ex.
"Would you? In fact, maybe you could do me a favor with that. It's this guy I met at …um…" His cheeks flushed and he swallowed again. Sin dropped a coaster and a second glass of whiskey in front of him and sauntered away in silence. Maybe the double rejection had wounded his vanity. "Look, your friend introduced us, and we went out a couple of times, but I'm not interested in a relationship and this guy just doesn’t want to hear it." He held the phone out to me, and I took it.
I glanced down at the number, but it wasn't one I recognized. I hit talk and listened to the phone ring while watching Cannon twitch nervously in his seat and gulp the blasted whiskey. Something had him on edge, and it hardly seemed like the reaction to a persistent suitor.
"Masters."
"Look," I didn't bother choosing my words wisely. In fact, it felt great to just let the anger and emotion roll out. "He's not interested in seeing you, and if that's not clear enough to get you to stop calling, well I've got any number of other options than talking to make my point."
"Who is this?" The deep graveled voice was cultured and powerful, the voice of a man who expected to be obeyed, respected, and xxx. "Why do you have Cannon's phone?"
The hell was a guy like that harassing Cannon for? "This is Chance DuMont, not that it matters. When a man says no, he means no. That's all there is to it. I'm just the kind of friend who makes sure that pricks like you understand that." Cannon's face turned white and he trembled as he picked up the glass and drained it. He waved the glass in the air for a refill, staring steadfastly at the row of bottles on the shelves.
After a brief silence, Cannon's would be boyfriend spoke again. "Is he there? Give him the phone."
"He doesn't want to talk to you." Interestingly, Cannon's head turned and his lips parted. I almost heard a whispered protest, but then he pressed them so tightly together that a thin white line formed around his mouth. He gripped his glass so tightly his knuckles whitened as well. Hmmm.

"I don't accept that. Ask yourself why he won't talk to me himself Chance."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that is pretty much as far as I've gotten. Somehow, removing the third wheel form this relationship is harder than it should be, probably because I quite like Cannon, and I wasn't at all sure for a while there whether Chance would end up with Rory or Cannon at the end. At this point, anything can happen. 

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To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955