Tuesday Tales: From the Word GLASS

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog post where a small, select group of authors share their works in progress with you. I’m continuing with The White Dahlia. This week our scenes are 400 words long and written to the prompt, GLASS.

A cappuccino-skinned waitress, wearing short-shorts and a tank top with Sluggo’s emblazoned across her chest, stepped over to the table.

“Hi, Beth. Didn’t expect to see you so early. The weather getting to you?”

She eyed Al up and down as if he were a Delmonico steak in a butcher shop.

Beth bit back her laugh. The poor girl was almost drooling, not that she didn’t have reason to. The man was yummy.

“Isn’t it getting to everyone? Hopefully, it’ll break soon. My work hours have changed. This is my new partner, Al Foster.” She turned to him. “Nancy’s parents own the place, and before you say anything, they opened it the year before she was born. Calling her Nancy was an excellent marketing ploy. You know, like the old comic book, Nancy and Sluggo? They have prints and stuff on the walls inside.”

“I don’t mind the name,” Nancy added, leaning in, giving Al a better look at her wares. “It’s a great way to break the ice, and it beats Lavinia, my middle name.”

“Pleased to meet you, Nancy Lavinia, both lovely names.”

“Hell, with the way you say it, it doesn’t sound bad at all.”

Beth smothered a groan. Had the girl batted her eyelashes?

Al reached for Beth’s hand. She looked up and read the “rescue me” look in his eyes.

Nancy must’ve gotten his message. She backed up.

He grinned. “What’s cold and on tap?”

She smiled wistfully. “We’ve got the usual as well as a couple of microbrews. It depends on your taste.” Turning to Beth, she asked, “The usual for you?”

“Yeah. You know me, I’m not the adventurous kind.”

“Bring two of whatever she’s having,” Al said.

“Two Magic Hat specials it is.”

Al watched the waitress walk away. “Thanks for the rescue. She seems nice enough, but I felt like the blue plate special. Please tell me I didn’t just order a Shirley Temple?”

Beth bit her lip, fighting not to laugh.

“No, you didn’t. It’s a seasonal wheat beer from a microbrewery.”

The “woe is me” look on his face had her dissolving into giggles.

“You’ll enjoy it; you’ll see.”

She really liked Al Foster. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be a problem.

Over burgers, fries, and two glasses of beer each, they made small talk, purposely avoiding discussing the case. It only took one person with big ears to embroider stories, and after Jack’s article, the last thing they needed was more publicity.

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales