NaNoWriMo: Damaged --Post 1

Ok, since I totally stink at keeping this blog updated and it's just sitting here, I thought I'd hijack it temporarily for my writing project. NaNoWriMo is an event that takes place every November and frankly, I've never been sufficiently insane to enter. The idea is to write a complete novel - 50,000 words - in one month. Editing is verboten. There just isn't time. Most of the novels written will be drivel, and I imagine mine will fall right into the drivel/pedestrian category. But if you'd like to read along and chuckle at my mistakes, welcome :) and feel free to comment, especially if you unravel the mystery early. I HATE that. I won't be posting in chapters, exactly, more like day by day...I've completed 4 days (yes. I am WAY behind) So here it is:

Damaged --post 1

Curtis slouched casually against the rough brick of the building, hat pulled low over his eyes, one leg bent so his foot was against the wall. It would not do if she saw him, not at all. The last time had not been pleasant. The bag dangled from his left hand, waiting for the drop as she ambled slowly up the walk pushing the cart, eyes on nothing and everything.

When she crossed the spot he'd decided would be the demarcation line, He pushed off from the building, crossed the sidewalk and dropped the bag in the trash container directly in front of him, then continued across as if he'd just been waiting to cross all along. He didn't look back to see if she'd stopped and picked it up until he was safely across and had entered a coffee shop on the other side.

Inside, confident she could not see past the reflections on the window glass, he watched his mother investigate the trashcan and find the bag of treasures he'd dropped. He saw her eyes dart around, wary that a mistake had been made and someone would be running back, making a scene. She had always hated scenes. She relaxed a little when she saw no one coming purposefully towards her, but dropped the bag into her cart and pulled a newspaper over it, and then shuffled quickly around the corner.

Curtis saw the glee on her face and the movement on her lips that meant she was talking to herself. It was so familiar that it unsettled him with an unexpected memory of happier times when she sang to herself as she dusted…not loud enough for anyone to hear, but watching her, he would often catch her lips moving and that same self-satisfied smile.

When she was out of sight, Curtis ordered a cup of coffee (grande half-caf latte with a float of whipped cream and a sprinkle of pumpkin pie spice) and took a table near the window. He wiped a tired hand over his eyes and yawned as he dialed his sister's number. She answered on the third ring without a hello. "Did you find her? Is she ok?" Curtis chuckled "Hi Jilly, nice to hear your voice too. I'm fine, thanks for asking. And yes, I saw her and she looks ok. I dropped her a care package and watched; she found it. She looked happy."

Jilly expelled the breath she'd been holding. "Thank goodness. After we didn't find her the last few days, I was afraid…." She let her voice trail off, but Curtis knew. He was afraid as well. He'd been afraid for years. She cleared her throat and he knew she was fighting sudden tears. "She didn't see you?". "No", he answered, "I blended in pretty good. Used the crowd disguise, jeans, nondescript jacket, baseball cap, sunglasses, slouch. She'd have to get pretty close to know it was me, and I ducked into a coffee shop before that happened."

Jilly's voice turned warm. "You're drinking that vile concoction with pumpkin spice right now, aren't you? Don't know how you can stand it." He slurped loudly in response. "You just don't know what you're missing. Hey, Jilly…about the other day..?"

Jilly sighed. "Forget it. It was nothing. Just me being dramatic. Gotta run. See you Sunday. Let me know if you see her tomorrow, ok?" Curtis snapped his phone shut and put it on the table where he could spin it around as he thought. Jilly's not the dramatic type, he thought dourly, and it was hardly nothing.

Leslie looked up from her desk when he got back to the office a few blocks away. "Messages on your desk, boss. Brad Guardino from Cytec wants to know when his billing program will be completed, Darcy Frank from HRMIC says everything she uploads to her documents database disappears, Ken Harris wants to know if we received his check and a Detective McCaffrey called. Said he'd call you back, wouldn't say what it is about."

Curtis thumbed through the mail while listening to the usual array of customer issues, but his head jerked up at the mention of the call from the detective. "Sorry, Leslie…what did you say about a detective? What did he say exactly?" Leslie stammered apologetically "he said…oh dear…he said he needs to talk to you about something, but he would not tell me what. He asked when you'd be in and said he'd call back. I told him about 1:15. Is that ok?" Curtis' office door was already closing.