Editing Rant: Marketability

Image acquired from the Interweb

When it just isn’t good enough

Just finished up on the Red Mug series of flashes; last one will post this Sunday. The first flash was the simple, normal story based on the picture. The followups all basically gelled the same day after I got the Red Mug on electronic paper. Normally I wouldn’t have put them down, but tax season had some downtime and I am practicing writing longer. Therefore I took an hour here and there to flesh things out.

Why would I normally not have continued the story? Well, it’s kind-of boring. The story is straightforward, the characters normal, and things just happen in normal order. The humor isn’t strong, and the storyline has huge jumps in time. It is not marketable as-is.

Many of my flashes have continued down paths during commutes or long drives, still more laying awake in bed or mowing the lawn. Most never get written because they don’t work.

But 5,000 words! Really, really written. All complete and bow-tied. (bouncing writer side)

That’s nice. (droll editor side)

As a slush reader, I have had to reject works of 100 K or more and feel absolutely horrible doing so, but not marketable is not marketable. Red Mug’s (and related flashes) is boring at the wide-range appeal level, has little description, and is clearly flash – needing (desperately) to expand out description, flesh out characters, and add action.

How could I workshop this story to make it into something that is marketable? (Please note, I don’t think the combined stories are worth this effort – but the skill set could be useful when looking at other stories.)

First off, right now it is a contemporary romance. What thread are in the story already available for expansion?

Third person omniscient isn’t working well (yes, it does slip on occasion – after all, first draft flash – but does mostly stick to the omniscient). As a romance, we need to dig down into the emotional development – and that means getting inside the characters’ heads more. Changing the story to either first person Jeffrey or third-person close, switching between Jeffrey and Amanda would be good. Once closer in, we have a few paths of additional development available.

Now where are cool bits to play with? Jeffrey and Amanda are a mixed race couple, they also have a significant age difference, family-style difference, and a work environment issue. Exploring how Jeffrey feels about dating a white person, and how his army family reacts is an option. Running into how Jeffrey’s mid-twenties and Amanda’s early forties plays out could be fun too. The long-distance relationship adds another aspect open to expansion. And how about how Amanda’s work is impacted by her pregnancy – both the reactions of her European counterparts and her American superiors? All of these could add thousands of words and take this from a simple story to a more complicated character development arc. Oh, and focusing on why Amanda doesn’t want love could really take the story to the next level.

Plus all of these additional bits could fill in the time jump issues between the already crafted scenes.

Still, I am better at writing genre fiction than straight contemporary. What subgenres could be added to the romance? These are more worldbuilding choices than character development or plot points. Sticking them will double description quickly and add plenty of action.

I could kick up the erotica aspect a notch or two; even the opening flash doesn’t delve deeply. At the moment the story is more “closed door” then bouncing bed.

The story could be changed to a science fiction – where the two characters work for an ore mining company and she operates the Orts Cloud while Jeffrey works in the traditional headquarters in the asteroid belt – exploring the long distant relationship against this background would make things more interesting. Location, location, location.

Another option is play with the “you are a god” aspect, changing this to an urban fantasy with Jeffrey discovering he actually is related to a god or gaining a god’s powers through no fault of his own. Maybe have Amanda gain Slavic god-like powers to his American-based aspects.

A thriller could work too – make this into a Die-Hard-style story; Jeffrey does come from an army family, though he is a nerd. During the crawl through the duct system or up an elevator shaft, the readers get exposed to Jeffrey’s and Amanda’s relationship as it develops over time. I’ll be able to keep all the already written scenes, and I don’t have to worry about the time jumps as he (or she) reminisces while going to rescue the family. Quick skeleton fix.

Maybe a mystery, with something happening at the company – people dying, getting fired, moving people around to different locations, a break-in – and have the pair solve it while falling in love.

The story could even be mixed and matched – maybe one or both of them gaining powers during the thriller of Die Hard-style, all the while, of course, never forgetting the story is actual a romance and the main plot is Amanda releasing her fear of falling in love – from Jeffrey’s first person point-of-view (POV).

The story as-is isn’t complicated enough to warrant real publication. But by adding a few “non-standard” pieces to the work, weaving in a secondary emotional development plot, and tacking on an action piece, suddenly the story becomes enough.

Am I going to do this? Nah, that was never “their” story. But they are here in my universe world, and they have a fully developed backstory, so they may show up in another tale as supporting characters where I don’t want just a generic couple with a couple of kids. These two already have had the breath of life breathed on their clay. And that is cool too.

The complete Red Mug series:
3/17/19 – Red Mug
3/24/19 – Green Cheeks
3/31/19 – Copenhagen Blue
4/7/19 – Clear Glass
4/14/19 – Gold Bands

H is for Horse

Jazz shoved the wrapping paper off the table and onto the floor to deal with a day she wasn’t conserving every bit of energy she had, then dropped the rattle and oversize plastic key ring into the lime green bag. She had wanted the toy to be properly wrapped, but that wasn’t going to happen. The bag will have to be enough.

Sitting down she reached for the food she set up so she always had at least one meal to eat every day without the effort of cooking. Pulling out a bar and breaking off a juice bottle, she opened both and ate slowly. Chewing was exhausting but necessary. It released tension in her jaw which built up overnight fighting for sleep. After finishing, Jazz took her phone out and put it on the charging bed on the table and started the connections for social media. Waiting for them to come up, she reached for her pill box and stared at it a while before snapping open Saturday.

She transferred the afternoon pills to a small bottle to take with her to the party and put the bottle beside the bag with the present. After that she took out the two horse pills and swallowed them with a gulp of grape juice. Jazz pulled the final pill out of the box for the day. Her pain pill.

Her medical coverage and disability did not cover all her bills and so she skimped on some medication. The depressant prescription to take before bed to help with sleeping cost the most, so she lived without that. Beside the side effect required a stimulant in the morning, and something to control her heart arrhythmia from the stimulant. The one week she took the depressant, she hadn’t made it out of bed until three in the afternoon a single day.

The pain pill in her hand was the secondary pain controller. She took the one which controlled the flares religiously, but this one reduced the pain in the joints. Unfortunately it was new and had no generic equivalent and the company maxed out its charity offerings before it hit the statistic group she fell into. The little pink capsule cost nearly as much per pill as the depressant and, for best effect, she needed to take it every eight hours, three times per day. She could afford once every two days. The question was when would be the best time to take it today.

If she took it now, she could easily drive to the Elisa’s baby shower, but it will wear off before she drove home. If she took it during the baby shower, she’ll be loopy for the first hour around a bunch of strangers and she didn’t want to embarrass her high school buddy like that. On the other hand, she might need it tomorrow to function after pushing herself all day today. In the end, it wasn’t really a question. She needed to be able to drive safely there. Taking it now, waiting the fifteen minutes for the pill and breakfast to stop taking all the blood in her system and start giving her energy, then waiting the additional hour for the loopy to wear off, she would be good to drive the twenty minutes to her friend’s house and get there for the start of the party at one. She stuck it on her tongue and washed the sour tasting pill down.

Looking at her phone, she sighed and then activated the lockout app. The pink pain pill made her drunk text. She put her arms and head on the table and waited for the lockout alarm to go off. Jazz supposed she could attempt her hair, jewelry, and makeup stoned out of her gourd, but she would need to do it all over again afterwards.

The alarm woke her. Cracking her neck, Jazz felt a lingering pain behind the drugged wall, but it didn’t touch her thinking. If she didn’t need the rest of her medications to actually live, she would fill that prescription happily even with the stoner and addictive side effects. Picking up her cane, she walked quickly to the makeup table in her bathroom and set to making everything perfect. Only an hour left before she needed to go out the door.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

Marathon Party (G to M)
4/8/2019 – G is for Gobi
4/9/2019 – H is for Horse
4/10/2019 – I is for Sherbet
4/11/2019 – J is for Jazz
4/12/2019 – K is for Keeper
4/13/2019 – L is for Loss
4/15/2019 – M is for Marathon

G is for Gobi

The alarm going off like the final bell in a cage match brought her nightly ten rounds fighting with insomnia to an end. Jazz congratulated herself on not sagging on the ropes at 3:00 and picking up her phone to surf social media.  By avoiding the glowing screen of uselessness, she managed at least two dream cycles, so at least three hours of actual sleep in the last ten hours. Sure, she was exhausted, a perpetual state, but her eyes did not feel like someone had crammed the Gobi desert into her orbs.

She swiped the phone off before her wake up song repeated, the Good Morning Song from Barney and Friends, guaranteed to drive her to sit up and move. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Jazz reached for her stabilizing quad-cane. She hated it as much as her morning alarm, but it served its purpose. While it took as much energy to use as walking without it, she hadn’t fallen once since she started using it around the house. She just never expected to be cane-bound at thirty-four, let alone needed the stupid push chair-walker anytime she left the house.

The insurance wouldn’t sign off on a scooter yet, and she didn’t know if she was grateful or angry about that.

Jazz hobbled over to where she had laid out clothes two days ago. Today was a big day, and she wanted it to be perfect. Ignoring the pain in her joints, she pulled off the oversized t-shirt she had slept in and lived in since she got home from shopping Tuesday. Leaning on the ladder chair beside her clothes table, she changed underwear without fully sitting down. After tucking her phone under her bra strap, she rested under the guise of studying the two choices she had set out for shirts.

One had buttons and fit her perfectly. The other was overlarge but slipped over her head in one move. Jazz tested her range of motion. Her fingers didn’t flex well, but she was able to raise one arm to shoulder height. Loose black blouse would be today’s outfit; she had hoped on Thursday for the button-down. She hadn’t be able to wear the turquoise embroidered linen in over a year. She should probably give up on it and donate it to Goodwill or the Kidney Foundation before it went completely out of fashion, but she loved that shirt.

The black skirt pulled on easier than the blouse, after which she sat on the tall step stool and recovered, going over what else she needed to get done before noon. Hair, make-up, jewelry, breakfast, charge phone, wrap a present. She had meant to get the present wrapped yesterday but a pain flare had ended the attempt.

Hair next. No, breakfast first. If she didn’t get to her hair, she could still go, but no breakfast will kill the entire day.

Jazz looked over at the breakfast bar and drink she kept on her nightstand for those days she couldn’t make it out of bed. Gritting her teeth, she stood, turned her back on the bed and room she spent too much time in, and went to her breakfast nook to eat like a civilized person.

On the blond wood table, bright in mid-morning sunshine, stood a box of blueberry breakfast bars, small plastic bottles of grape juice, and her box of pills for the week. The first week box for the month was behind the used drink bottles and breakfast bar wrappers waiting for her once-every-two weeks visit from the state subsidized care-giver to refill since her fingers couldn’t manage organizing pills anymore. In the middle of the table was the result of her struggle to wrap the baby shower present with real paper before the pain had disabled her.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

Marathon Party (G to M)
4/8/2019 – G is for Gobi
4/9/2019 – H is for Horse
4/10/2019 – I is for Sherbet
4/11/2019 – J is for Jazz
4/12/2019 – K is for Keeper
4/13/2019 – L is for Loss
4/15/2019 – M is for Marathon

Flash: Clear Glass

Image courtesy of africa at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“Hey, Amanda.” Jeff tilted the sleeping baby at the laptop, the five month old sound asleep. “Mandi says ‘hi’.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Amanda eyes softened looking at the little girl.

“No, I distinctly remember hearing her saying ‘tell Mommy I love her’ between the diaper changes and spit-up.”

Chuckling, the woman on the other side of the world took a sip from a red mug she had stolen from his kitchen. “I don’t see how you get any work done with a baby around.”

“It helps to work from home.” Jeff shifted his daughter for a better hold. “Takes longer to put in an eight-hour day; I still got another hour before I call it a day. But I can still get the work done. The challenge will be two months from now during the installation in Los Angeles for the new VP; my mother is flying out to help with that.”

“I liked meeting them.”

“Yep, well, that was over the Internet. You haven’t gone through the Reid Grilling, Mistress Troglodyte.” Rocking the baby, Jeffrey continued. “My brother and sisters in-laws are still recovering, and Min-ju married in over a decade ago. So, what is the big news that kept you away yesterday?”

“Two pieces. First, I hate you.”

Jeffrey swallowed, suppressing the flinch from the pain the words inflicted. “Isn’t it suppose I’ve got two pieces of news, one good and one bad. Which one do you want first?”

“Nope, because you are going to think they are both good news.” Amanda snarled, though a teasing twinkle played around her eyes. “Aksel, not so much. In fact he and my doctor might just fly out to clobber you.”

“Why … You’re pregnant!?!” The baby’s eyes opened at the loud noise. Jeffrey immediately rocked and cooed at her until the eyes closed again.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“But we used a condom and everything.”

“Not everything. I wasn’t on birth control yet.” Amanda growled into her cup. “The doctor took me off caffeine immediately. And he wants less stress this time because of Mandi’s low birth weight.”

“Good luck with that.” Jeffrey smirked at the computer screen, while walking over to lay the baby down in the crib. He returned a moment later. “The less stress, I mean, sweet cheeks. I know you can kick your caffeine habit whenever you need to, and anyone else who annoys you during withdrawal.”

“You aren’t going to go all googy-eyes and demand I marry you and give up this life?”

“Why on Earth would I do that? If anything, I expect you to demand to marry me someday and keep me alive in the style I’ve become accustomed. Making you sandwiches in the kitchen and babies in the bedroom.”

“That would need a prenuptial.”

“Of course.” Jeffrey jerked his head back as if in surprise that anything else could possibly be considered. “Gods always have pre-nupts, can’t go mixing powers without them.”

She laughed. “You are crazy.”

“And a god. I have that on good authority.” Jeffrey’s voice dropped an octave into his pretend seduction voice.

“Yes, a god.” Amanda rolled her eyes in response, smiling just for him, before her watch went off. She slammed back the rest of her weak tea. “Got to go.”

“Wait, what it the other thing?”

“I’ll tell you when I get off work.” Amanda stood, reaching for the off switch on the screen.

Jeffrey hurriedly begged. “Don’t make me stay up all night worrying about it.”

She sigh and settled back into the chair. “You know John Tennyson, the head of the International Division, retired.”

“Yeah, it’s why I have to go to Los Angles.”

“Well I was on the short list until they found out I got knocked up.” Amanda voice lowered into a snarl. “When I didn’t bother taking significant maternity leave and Copenhagen worked like a well-oiled machine through it all, I was put back on the list. In two months, I will be moving to Los Angles.”

“No! You are the next Vice President of International Activities?” Jeffrey’s with teeth shined against his dark skin, the congratulatory smile going from ear-to-ear.

“With Americans choosing? What do you think?”Amanda’s lips curled to show all her teeth in a very different expression from her lover’s. “They are going to bring Brian Jennings on permanently, and I will be his second. The one to do the traveling, since I speak the languages and have the degree in International law.”

“Fuck.”

Amanda’s eyebrows raised; Jeffrey never cursed outside of the bedroom. “I know why I am angry…” Her voice faded out.

“And you are going to do amazing, and you still just got a great promotion, and you will be in America. All pluses.” Jeffrey clicked off the pluses on his hand, then switched hands. “But (1) you deserved the International Division and to hold you back because of the baby is just stupid. Still we don’t know all the factors about the Board’s decision, so maybe it isn’t stupid. But (2) Brian Jennings is a stupid, more than. He is a crony-oriented, fucking idiot.”

“Tell me how you really feel.” Amanda looked at her watch. “I’ll catch the next train. It’s not like Aksel is there until eight anyway. What has he done to you?”

“Not him. The crony he put in place over technical.” Jeffrey pushed back his beginning afro, he really needed to get to the barber sometime soon, “Ralph Miller is not only a fucking idiot, but a misogynistic fucking idiot. He already got two of our best females to quit before Darsh and I put in a redirect on his email so all his communications go through us before going out to the group or being returned to him.” Jeff started pacing, glancing at the screen. “I’ve been promising everyone only two more months before we can get rid of Up-chuck Ralph.”

“Do you want the job?”

“Hell, no.” Jeff froze, realizing she had a genuine interest. “No, really. I would suck at it. I can muddle through, but it’s Trish who is basically running our department with Darsh and me doing the interference. I want to be home with the baby. Babies. Making sandwiches and coffee for my woman.”

“So who is Trish?” Amanda smiled her shark smile. “I might be able to get a crony or two in myself.”

Jeff imitated the expression. “The files will be in your in-box by the time you get to work.”

(Words 1079, first published 4/7/2019)

 

The complete Red Mug series:
3/17/19 – Red Mug
3/24/19 – Green Cheeks
3/31/19 – Copenhagen Blue
4/7/19 – Clear Glass
4/14/19 – Gold Bands

Flash: Copenhagen Blue

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Aksel opened the inner sanctum, and Jeffrey dropped his bags inside the door before crossing the room to Amanda’s desk. Her dark eyes lit up seeing him come in. “You made it!”

“Like anything could stop me, sweet cheeks.” Jeffrey kissed her quickly on the lips, not giving her time to maneuver out of the chair.

“I thought they weren’t going to give you time off.”

“Yep. But, cool fact: when you offer to quit, they change their tune.” Jeffrey sat on the edge of the desk to stare down at his very pregnant not-girlfriend. “I’ve spent the last three days training interns.” He reached out to stroke a chubby cheek. “Now, as much as I want to play catchup, when I turned on the international phone after the plane landed, text messages started exploding. Do you have that room for me?”

Two more vibration-related pings shook his carry-on bag by the door, supporting his comment.

“Aksel?” Amanda looked toward her executive assistant. Next came a group of sounds out of her mouth Jeffrey assumed were either Danish or German, the more common languages for the Copenhagen office. If he remembered right, she spoke both of them fluently as well as English and had several more under her belt.

The white man in the expensive gray suit who guarded her door picked up the larger of his two bags. “If you would follow me?”

“And point out the bathroom if you can, that way I won’t need to bother you about anything else.” Jeffrey looked over his shoulder as he exited the room. “I promised to get back to you as soon as I figure out how to walk Intern Two through whatever they did back in Utah.”

A gentle smile crossed Amanda’s lips. “What happened to Intern One?”

“Hopefully a jettison into orbit. Because that guy had no Earthly reason for being hired.” Giving her a final wave, he said “Love you.” As the door clicked closed, Jeffrey flinced. He wasn’t suppose to say that, ever. She didn’t want love and its trappings; it didn’t matter if his feelings had evolved over the last nine months.

***

“Did you work through the night?”

Jeffrey jerked awake at the question, his tight curls on the left side smashed flat. “Night, day. Things are kind-of confused right now.”

“Well, why don’t you log off and go to your hotel.” Rubbing her belly, Amanda winced slightly before moving over to one of the work surface to half-sit. Getting up required a production clearly making her reluctant to sit unless she was staying for a while. She took a sip from the mug he had sent her.

“That would assume there is a hotel somewhere.” Jeffrey slapped his cheeks a couple of times. “Please tell me that is coffee.”

“Nope, decaf tea.” Amanda snarled. “Can’t have caffeine because of the baby. But you can find some coffee and strong tea down the hall.”

“Right. I remember that. Sorry.”

“Apologize to Aksel. He has had to deal with me for seven months with no caffeine.” Amanda frowned at the colored water before setting it aside. “What happened with the hotel?”

“Didn’t remake arrangements when the company jerked around my leaving time, again.” Standing, Jeffrey stretched, his hands touching the dropped ceiling. “Totally forgot about it after the second or third flight change.” He walked over and placed his hand either side of her belly. “Sorry, I couldn’t get here sooner.”

She shrugged, lifting the specially tailored jacket, “It’s more important for you to get the time off after the holidays when you have her to yourself.”

“Working full-time here is going to suck, but at least you have maternity leave.”

Amanda winced, then moved Jeffrey’s hands over the movement. His white teeth gleamed against his black skin as a smile took over his face. “Had to take it for the nursing. Breaking from meetings would have been too much during the first two months. I don’t like it, but I agree it has too many beneficial effects not to do try. Though who knows if my milk will come in.”

“You should take as least a month to recover even then.” Jeffrey stroked the hair she had pulled tightly back into a bun. “And after two months, it’s holiday season, so we can pop back to America while you get a third month of recovery. The paternity leave is already in place for when you have to go back.”

“Nearly four months of baby and parents one-on-one. Not bad for an American company.”

“Yep, so what is the normal here in Denmark?”

“Fifty-two week,” Amanda reported drolly.

He laughed. “HQ would die if you took off that much maternity.”

“It’s 52-weeks for either the mother or father, or if they want equal time, 26 weeks.”

Looking up from where he had been contemplating her belly, Jeffrey appeared truly shocked. “Half a year of paternity leave?”

“Or a full year, depends who in the couple has the maternity genes.”

“That would be me.”

“Exactly.”

She smiled up at him, that gentle smile which had never existed before her sixth month of pregnancy. Jeffrey wondered if the gentle Madonna smile will disappear with the baby fat once she gave birth. While he missed the shark smile and full-on barracuda attitude, he had grown fond of this new side during their long-distance communications.

“I promise I will take good care of Amanda Junior.”

She laughed, “You really are going to name her Amanda Maria Hall Junior?”

“Or the Second. If it had been a boy, I would have been required to name him Jeffrey Taylor Reid the Fourth.” Jeffrey darted in for a quick kiss. “So, which do you prefer, Junior or the Second?”

“The Second. Junior will have too many questions, I rather not do that to her.” She picked up the mug for a final sip to take it to the ‘Another cup’ level. “I can’t imagine having a family history so strong names are written in stone before the children are conceived.”

“That’s just because you are an only child of only children, Mistress Troglodyte. We gods have large extended families.” Jeffrey noticed her wince again when she set aside the empty mug. There had been no matching kick under his hands. He reached up to touch her face. “Are you okay?”

“Just a touch of indigestion.” Amanda muttered in annoyance.

“Right, so how far apart is the indigestion?”

The barracuda returned instantly, pushing him away. “Not you too. I’m not going into labor. Hell, the baby isn’t due for another two days.” She waddled with purpose to the door.

“Hey, wait.” Jeffrey grabbed Amanda’s arm. “Tell you what, why don’t I monitor your indigestion?”

She tilted her head while looking up at him, her eyes narrowing. “How?”

“There is an app. Let me download it, and you hit it every time your indigestion strikes.”

“I got a contract negation in,” Amanda looked at her watch, “an hour. I’m not leaving until it is complete.”

“How far do the contractions need to be?”

“The doctor wants me to come in when they are five to seven minutes apart.”

“So I will wait until then.” Jeffrey put out his hand for her phone, and she let him have it. “But this way you don’t have to keep track of the timing. I can do that.” With a few swipes, he uploaded an app and showed her how to use it. The app suggested using it to keep track of compliments in a day to raise self-esteem, work tasks completed, or even laps around a small track.

***

“It’s time.” Jeffrey said frowning from the office doorway, his voice creaky from a very, very long day. Aksel rounded around him, talking one of the freaky languages everyone around here spoke. Jeff probably upset him by strolling past the guard hound’s desk without stopping.

Amanda let out an answering stream, addressing whatever issues Aksel raised before responding to him. “I’m fine. The office closes in an hour. We can leave then.”

“Askel, what is rush hour like here?” Jeffrey pegged the smaller man with his dark eyes.

“Rush hour, Mr. Reid?” Aksel frowned a moment, translating in his head, before muttering. “Myldretid.  Ah, it is, bad. About one hour using the Metro. Ms. Hall usually works through it and heads home about seven.”

“And when do you leave?”

“About half an hour before her.”

“Excuse me, I’m still right here.”

Jeffrey rounded on the high level manager. “But not for long. Do you really want to go into hard labor on the Metro during rush hour?”

“No.” Amanda blinked at the sudden shift from Jeffrey’s normal laid back demeanor. “But we got the contract to do, plus I need to get everything ready if this really is labor and not a false alarm.”

“Right.” Jeffrey nodded to Aksel. “What does Amanda need to have done for the next three days that no one else can do?”

Aksel walked quickly to Amanda’s desk and pulled out several sheets of paper, plus one large clipped pile. “Ms. Hall, please read and sign these. The team can take care of everything else.” He gathered the rest of the items on her desk into a pile and removed them.

“But-”

Placing the pile on a credenza under the office window, Aksel interrupted. “My wife went into labor three weeks early with Josefine. I’ve made sure everything has been ready, just in case, for months.”

She looked from one male to the other.

“You have three contractions to finish that, then we are out of here.” Jeffrey’s flat voice brooked no argument.

“Men,” hissed through Amanda’s lips before she started concentrating on the papers and new contract.

Jeffrey came over to stand by Aksel. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“Could you program into my phone how to get to the hospital from here?” Jeffrey offered the international phone the company provided for his travels.

Aksel quickly opened it up to the Metro app Jeffrey had downloaded on arrival. “Shall I also put in how to get from the hospital to her quarters?”

“That would be great.” Jeffrey leaned against the wall while Aksel entered the information. Exhaustion batted around his mind like a cat playing with a mouse. He had maybe three hours sleep in the last twenty-four. The plane ride out came with non-stop sleep, but that only made up for the abuse he had done training the interns and getting everything at home ready for this trip. Adrenaline would make up for the lack of rest, he hoped. “I’ll be back to pick up my luggage when I know she is okay.”

Intet problem, I have the key and can drop your bags off on my way home tonight.” Aksel handed back the phone. “I’ve entered my number. Please text me when the baby is born. Everyone is going to want to know, and I can send out the announcement. Now if you excuse me, I arrange for one of the guards to escort you. We all are very proud of Ms. Hall.”

“I’ll pack up my stuff.” Jeffrey looked at Amanda, feeling her heckles continue to raise even from as far away as he was as others took control her life, and he knew the only reason while Askel and he hadn’t been eviscerated was she knew they were right. “I’ll be back in seven minutes. We are leaving then.”

(words 1,911 – first published 3/31/2019)

 

The complete Red Mug series:
3/17/19 – Red Mug
3/24/19 – Green Cheeks
3/31/19 – Copenhagen Blue
4/7/19 – Clear Glass
4/14/19 – Gold Bands