First, a little background.
(Or simply scroll down to Black on Black.)
In early March, Black on Black was accepted as a short story by Gaby Jai-Devi Brogan to be read for her prescreened open mic event on Sunday, March 29. If Gaby recorded her first Far Flung Fiction, I’ll find a link and drop it here.
Y'all, I typically don’t submit to… well, anything. Mainly because I worry about tying up the limited (ADHD) mental resources needed for my WIP. Nor do I wish for outer prompts to guide or influence said story. But when I read Gaby’s call to submit, my mind flew to a chapter from a not-yet-completed romcom, the one I abandoned to write the Awen Trilogy.
After a tweak or two, I read it on Sunday. And am sharing it today with you.
By the way, Sammy Starr and her story are close to my heart. So close, I had titles picked out for three more books in a planned series — all with “chicken” in the title. Yes, chicken. Sammy’s daddy is a large-scale chicken farmer in NW Georgia. Along with a beaucoup others. There are also a LOT of churches in the area. Along with several “nudist resorts.” Go figure.
I hope to resurrect this novel and write the others. Right now, they are an unfinished manuscript and several kooky titles with a skeleton plan. All feature a fierce, broken, pigheaded woman (Sammy) who becomes intent on finding the truth despite the danger.
I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Sammy’s psyche and the trouble swirling around her pretty head.
Black on Black
It was dark when ingénue Sammy Starr stepped from the Boeing 767 at the gate in Atlanta. She was glad she’d told her father not to pick her up. She would rather him stay at the hospital with her mother. Plus, Sammy needed the drive to Gainesville to gather her wits.
After two Bloody Marys, she had slept fitfully on the plane. But between the vodka and the nap, the hangover had eased substantially. Sammy was still livid with J.C. And angry at herself for loving such a lying cheat. There was thinking to be done, decisions to be made, and a huge mess to clean up back in California. But right now, her focus was on Mama.
Tears threatened, and Sammy fought them off, throwing a brilliant smile at the man who had deplaned in front of her. Tall and lanky with dark hair and flashing eyes, he was just what Sammy’s bruised ego needed. In black-on-black Armani, he looked crisp and fresh despite the five-hour flight across the country.
His grin melted her insides. “Cherie,” he crooned, “Are you here for long?”
“Don’t know,” Sammy replied, tossing her silken hair.
Lanky waited a beat for her to fall in beside him. She’d slung her designer purse over one shoulder and wheeled her laptop and carry-on.
“May I?” he asked, reaching for the luggage.
“Thanks, I’ve got it.” Sammy flashed another of her almost-famous smiles.
The report of her red stiletto heels rang through the concourse to blend with the symphony of Hartsfield International. One loudspeaker announced an arriving Delta flight, another, a last boarding call.
Lanky paced her, smitten. Sammy knew that look.
“Are you here for a visit? Coming home?” she asked.
“Just passing through. My next flight departs from Concourse B. How about you?”
“Oh, just visiting,” she lied.
Sammy wrangled her bags onto the long, steep escalator that led to the downstairs tram. He crowded too close behind her as the metal stairs unfolded. Her heart beat faster, not in alarm, but in exhilaration.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, voice husky. “I have time before my next flight.”
Sammy resisted the urge to lean into him. She could use a diversion. Besides, what was another hour or two? When she’d called her father after the plane landed, he’d told her Mama was sleeping.
And though every fiber of her being screamed yes, she said, “No. I’d better not.” There was the rental car reservation. And despite her father’s reassurances, Sammy needed to know her mother was okay.
“Are you sure, ma cherie?” The dark eyes implored. “It’s early. One drink. No more.”
Chuckling at his earnestness, Sammy waggled her head and gave him the patented Sammy Starr pout.
“No, handsome. ‘Fraid not.”
The tram rumbled into the station. The crowd pressed closer as the doors slid open, and several families exited, juggling children and backpacks. Lanky extended his arm for Sammy to board.
She stepped in, chose a center pole, and wrapped an arm around it. He took another, watching her with those sultry eyes. A speculative smile played on his lips.
The man was a sight to behold. Sammy was tempted to change her mind. Too bad she didn’t have the inclination. Or the time.
The tram’s computerized voice interrupted her thoughts.
“The next station is concourse B. The color-coded maps and signs in the vehicle match the station colors. Please move to the center of the vehicle and away from the doors. Please hold on. This vehicle is now leaving the station.”
As it lurched forward, Lanky let go of his pole and snagged Sammy’s, sandwiching her hands between his. Then, he leaned in and whispered against her ear, “One kiss, cherie? A wee one?”
“Non,” Sammy giggled.
But after J.C.’s betrayal, it felt good to be pursued. So what if this guy was a total stranger—he was a hotter than Hades stranger.
“The train is approaching Concourse B. Please hang on.”
“Just one?” His breath tickled Sammy’s ear. She leaned away.
“Non, s’il vous plait. Not today.”
“Ah, mademoiselle, you break-a my heart.” He grabbed his chest dramatically.
The tram rocked. Sammy braced as they slowed.
“We have arrived at Concourse B. The doors are opening. Please exit the tram.”
“Your stop, handsome.” She smiled up at him. “Have a great flight. And thanks for the offer. I’m beyond flattered.”
Lanky sighed dreamily, leaned close, and planted a warm kiss on Sammy’s upturned lips. Butterflies bloomed in her stomach. The provocative stranger moved to the door and stood a moment as if memorizing her face.
“Au revoir, mon amour.”
With a parting smile, he stepped off the tram, waved, and disappeared into the throng.
“Bye,” Sammy whispered, her sadness returning.
~ la fin
If you enjoyed this, please drop a like and a comment and share it with your friends. Thank you!
From my heart to yours, Olivia/O.J.❤️
Monetary help is always welcome AND greatly appreciated. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.
Great story!