How can it be the first of December already!?!? This year has flown by which makes today’s #1lineWed THEME of **ONE YEAR AGO** very apropos. This scene is very rough, has been rewritten once and will be revised again, especially when I rework the scene from Devlin’s POV that precedes. This happens well into the book. And it happens a year after the scenes I wrote Monday and Tuesday to get me over the 50K count so I could win NaNoWriMo. Dev has been very patient, which surprses me because…wolf…mate…claiming! Anyway, not sure if this one’s been shared or not. At this point, it all runs together because…time passes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy…
She had no clue why her so-called friends would drag her along on this fiasco. Even Mary Pat, whom she’d known since first grade at St. Vincent’s Catholic School and whom she considered to be her very best friend, had insisted. One year ago, they’d put Tommy in the ground, closed casket. The looks of pity from everyone, including Mary Pat, hadn’t gone unnoticed. She’d also recognized the arch looks of superiority from the others. They all thought she hadn’t known that Tommy was screwing around on her.
From her seat in the corner, she watched Nora and Rosie play their games. She wondered if they knew Tommy had been bumping uglies with both of them. Oh, they’d looked all pious and concerned at the bastard’s wake, but she’d heard them gloating to others, not to each other. Everyone felt so sorry for her—the young widow of the hero cop. Ha. Some hero. Tommy had been taking payoffs and screwing everything with the right plumbing. She counted herself lucky the six years they’d been married that he’d rather use her as a punching bag. Tommy used that to work out his frustrations. The fucking? That was sheer punishment and he dished out the marital rapes with ruthless intensity. She’d gotten pregnant once, but then he beat the kid right out of her. Oh, he’d gotten a lot of sympathy over that one. Poor Tommy Gallagher who’s clumsy wife had fallen down the stairs and miscarried.
Then on a hot August night, some Southie gangster did her the biggest favor of her life. He walked up and shot Tommy in the head. She figured it happened while some whore was sucking him off. That little tidbit stayed out of the papers because the department made him out to be a hero. The magnificent Tommy Gallagher, dying in the line of duty protecting some helpless woman. The department, or Danny Boy Moore, paid off some working girl, so the story she gave was that a john was beating her up and Tommy intervened. As if. She wasn’t stupid. Or clueless. Tommy had played a dangerous game and paid full price for the ride.
Noise in the strip club ramped up and the strobe lights went into hyper drive. She wanted nothing more than to be home in her own bed, the one that Ishe shared with the new love of her life—Puck, her Newfoundland dog. Then she looked up. And saw him.
And there you have it. There’s a fun scene–already written–that occurs very shortly after this one. I’m ready to get past the heavy stuff, which those last two chapters were. REALLY heavy. Writers, any year ago events of note in your WIPs? Readers, what were you doing “one year ago?”