Filed under: WIP Wednesday May 11, 2016
I’m going to try to post a snippet from a work in progress every Wednesday (making this, as it says in the title of this post, WIP Wednesday).
I’ll admit upfront that I’m always writing, working on something, and because of that, I usually have several stories in various stages of completion. Problem is, none of them have titles at the moment. That’s usually the last thing I come up with (and then only with the help of my beta reader). For convenience’s sake, I usually call a WIP by one or both of the characters’ names, the way you would call a fanfic story by its pairing.
Also — fair warning — some of the snippets I post here may not be from the story I’m actively working on at any given time.
Take this one, for example. I started it in August 2015 and wrote on it pretty steadily for a few weeks, then kind of lost the plot. Or, rather, the characters wanted to take it somewhere I wasn’t prepared to go. I’m still hoping to pick it back up eventually, but it doesn’t seem to want to be the short story I had originally intended. So once I come to terms with that and let the characters go where they want to, then I can get out of the way and let them take over.
Derek and Ty, excerpt
Copyright © 2016 J.M. Snyder
Tyson Riggs is Dishman’s sexy bartender and, truth be told, he’s Derek’s real reason for attending ladies’ night. The man is fine. Plus it doesn’t hurt that sometimes he has a sneaky habit of marking down Derek’s drinks to only a buck, too. Maybe he’s trying to be cute, or maybe he just rings Derek up wrong, Derek doesn’t know, but hey, cheap beer is a good thing no matter what the reason for it.
Behind him, Molly starts up again. “All I’m saying is –”
“Blah blah blah,” Derek interrupts, talking over her. “You see me one day out of the week, honey. I have plenty to keep me busy the rest of the time, trust me.”
“You just said all you do is work,” she throws back at him.
He groans. Me and my big mouth. As much as he likes shooting the shit with his clients, he always tries to keep his personal life separate from his business persona. He wonders where Molly might be heading with this line of questioning. A sobering thought scares him.
God, please don’t let her be hitting on me.
Over his shoulder, he sees her heft the cases of beer she carried from the truck as if they weigh nothing. With ease, she brings them into the room and sets them on a shelf near where he’s standing, her elbow casually bumping his. Then she props a hand on her hip and gives him a sly grin. “Listen, I don’t know if you’re into this sort of thing, but there’s a craft brew fest next weekend, and afterward Fitz and I are having a few people over –”
“Fitz?” Derek moves over a step, putting some much needed distance between them. “Who’s that?”
“My old man,” Molly explains. “I’ve mentioned him before — he’s an artist down at 22 Tattoo. I think you even met him once here at the bar. Big guy, flesh tunnels in both earlobes, stretched septum, ink all over –”
“Unlike you.” He smiles as he says it so she knows he’s teasing, but he’s trying not to wince. What the hell are flesh tunnels? And a stretched septum? That doesn’t even sound like something he’d be able to see without following the guy into the bathroom. Which he isn’t in the habit of doing. God, please don’t let this be heading where I think it’s heading, he prays.
With a laugh, Molly says, “You’d know him if you saw him again. Real scruffy, but don’t let that fool you. He’s a teddy bear at heart.”
“Fitz,” Derek says. When she nods, he shrugs. “Okay, sure. So he’s your what again?”
“My guy, you know. My main squeeze. My BF. Anyway.” Molly shakes her head, and her helmet of hair doesn’t move an inch. “What I’m asking is if maybe you don’t want to hang out with us next weekend or something. If you’re not into craft beer, just come on by our place after the fest. Fitz really took a liking to you.”
A chill runs down Derek’s spine. So it is as bad as he feared.
Then he realizes the chill wasn’t just an emotional reaction but a physical one caused by Molly’s finger trailing down the inside of his arm. He jumps and pulls away, which causes her to giggle girlishly. “Oh, come on, you’ll like it,” she cajoles. “The best of both worlds, no? Don’t all guys dream of having a threesome at least once in their lives?”
“Um, ah, well …” Derek flashes her a quick grin and takes another step back, out of reach.
She follows, closing in on him.
“Molly, look, I’m flattered.” The heel of his shoe hits the now empty handcart and he steps around it, putting the flimsy metal between them as if it might somehow protect him from her advances. Keeping it in front of him and his eye on her, he backs up towards the open storage room door. “Really, I am. Thank Fitz for me, too. He seemed like a nice guy, what I can remember of him. But … next weekend, you said? I don’t think I can. I’m pretty sure I’m busy …”
Her hands smooth down her ample bosom, then angle out over her wide hips. “Too busy for this?” she murmurs seductively.
Before Derek can answer, there’s a hard knock on the door behind him and he backs into someone. Fitz, I bet, he thinks, jerking away from strong, firm hands that catch him about the waist. They planned this from the moment he pulled up, he just knows it, and now he’s trapped here, he won’t be able to get away, he’s on the clock and can’t do anything without getting into trouble, the customer is always right, damn it —
“Hey, Derek,” Ty Riggs says. “Moll in here?”
The bartender’s warm voice is a soothing balm that calms Derek instantly. “God, it’s you,” he sighs, relieved.
With a deep laugh, Ty says, “No, not God, but I can see where you might make that mistake. Happens a lot.”
Ty’s hands linger on Derek’s waist, and Derek lets himself relax back against the bartender’s body for the briefest moment. Then the sparkle in Molly’s eyes reminds him where he is, and he steps to one side to let Ty shift around him. “Molly’s in here. I was just leaving.”
Those bright red lips pull into a pout. “You think about my offer now, you hear?” Molly calls as Derek hurries out of the storage room.
He ducks his head and pushes the handcart through the kitchen, almost running to his truck. Hopefully Ty won’t leave me alone with her again. He has two whole bays to empty into her storage room; if she corners him a second time, how’s he ever going to get his truck unloaded so he can finish for the day?
Almost makes me not want to come back tonight.
Almost. But seeing Ty again will be worth it.
TO BE CONTINUED …