Today's Sample Sunday is brought to you by the minions. Won't you hug a minion today?
For those who pay attention to my random postings on Facebook and Twitter, you would know that I'm over halfway through writing Book Two, which now has the working title of "Bitter Nights". We'll see how well that one holds up through the end. At any rate, I thought I would take the opportunity to present to you a small bit from the very beginning of the novel.
Disclaimer: This is a work in progress and the final product may or may not match up with what's ahead. It also hasn't gone through editing, so any mistakes are my own and should not be there when everything is all said and done.
With that out of the way, hit the break to read the first page or so of Chapter One.
I think it speaks of just how messed up my life is when my only reaction to the auctioneer's assistant blowing out his boss's brains with a shotgun was to sigh and say, "Figures."
The sad part is that I hadn't wanted to be here in the first place. I clearly remember turning to Virgil on the elevator ride up and asking him what the hell we were doing.
"Well," he said, "you’re here because you decided you wanted to be the face of your company when it came to its charity efforts. I’m here as your 'plus one'." He adjusted the tie he was wearing, a garish purple number that clashed horribly with the salmon colored shirt he had picked out for the event, a charity auction being held at Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant in Reunion Tower. You know, the tower that is usually pictured offset from shots of downtown with the ball on top. Yes, there’s an actual restaurant inside, and I was fast moving up an elevator to join some of Dallas’ social elite as they gave, gave, gave to whatever charity felt appropriate for such a lavish setting. Aside from the tie and the shirt though, Virgil was decked out in a black business suit that I had bought for him a few months ago when I had suckered him into the role of my steady 'plus-one' companion for the events that offered them. The color had been a compromise. Initially he’d wanted it to match the tie.
"When you put it that way," I said as I smoothed the front of my dress, "it makes me seem like I don’t appreciate the opportunity this event creates."
We were alone in the elevator, apparently two of the last guests to arrive, so Virgil had no problem saying, "You don't." At least he was honest.
"Well, they don’t need to know that." They, of course, being the social elite we were about to face. I had met more than a handful during the past six months in my new position of importance in my company. The sad part was that I was probably the most honest one out of the entire lot. This coming from a vampire hunter who was constantly forced to lie so I didn’t come off as crazy. For them it was all about the prestige of being a benefactor for a charity, as well as an excuse to catch up with people they called 'friends' but never saw at anything other than these types of functions. For me, it was an attempt at actually caring about what the hell my company did. I’ll be the first to admit that my intentions weren’t entirely honest in this endeavor, but that was besides the point. The situation had changed, and I had adapted. I said as much to Virgil right before the elevator dinged and the doors opened. The timing was impeccable, as his retort died on his lips.
Instead, he said, "Just be nice to him. The current faction aligned to his viewpoint will take any and all insult as fuel that you’re unfit to even be a part of your company."
I turned and smiled at him. "Ignoring how ludicrous that is, I'll be the perfect lady." He snorted, then we stepped off the elevator and put on our game faces.
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