Hello. I’m the chicken with it’s head cut off. 😀 I’ve had three books come out in the last couple of weeks. Well, two books, plus a new novella and a book in a box set. And that pesky deadline looming in front of me like a train barreling down the track. The good news is I’m under 10K words to hit the end. So…according to the rules of #1lineWed, whose theme today is “NUMBERS,” I’m supposed to post from a WIP. Yeah…no. I’m combining marketing with blogging. So here’s a snippet from NIGHT MOVES because, hey, with a theme like NUMBERS and a heroine who wants to be a CPA…
This is a conversation between Wizard, who’s the bartender at Chaisin’ Tail, and Lainey, her first night dancing–and before she meets Hollywood. 😀
“I gotta say, you aren’t the type we normally get in here.”
“Yes, well. About that. I need to make some money. A lot of money. Quickly.”
His thick brows scrunched toward the bridge of his nose and he studied me. “You in trouble?”
Uh oh. I probably should have made up something—like I was studying strippers for a research paper for a sociology class or something. I never was much good at thinking fast on my feet. I was slow and methodical, the type to like numbers and accounting. “No. Not me. It’s a…family thing.”
He continued to give me a narrow-eyed look but didn’t pursue the topic. I felt like I’d dodged a bullet. “So…music? I admit I haven’t thought much about it. I tend to listen mostly to country music. The song I danced to this morning was good. Do you have more songs like it?”
Wiz chuckled and shook his head as he ripped the top off a beer with his hand—his bare hand. After a long guzzle, he said, “Most dancers rehearse. Choreograph their routines. Are you tellin’ me you just climbed that pole and did what you did?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“Damn, babe, you’re killin’ me. I’ll pick out a few songs.”
“Few songs?” I blinked a couple of times, wrapping my brain around that. “I’ll be dancing more than once?”
“Yeah, babe. Didn’t Hoss explain? You’re on once an hour between seven p.m. and two a.m. Last call is two, but the girls keep dancing until we kick the assholes out at three.” He was flicking through some CDs and got a wicked grin. “You familiar with Dylan?”
I was counting up the hours up on my fingers, but glanced up. “As in Bob?”
Wizard nodded. “Yeah. Got your name right here. Lady Lay.” He eyed me again. “And wear your cowboy boots. They’ll go with the fringe.”
I clamped my mouth shut. The name was as good as any and my boots were infinitely better than those stilts the other dancers wore. At the moment, my brain needed numbers. Math. Yes, math was good. I started counting again. Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, one… Six. I had to get on that pole six times a night?
So? Who’s got some numbers for us? Share your snippet, 1-liner, or anything else!