Story excerpt

Hi, all–

Here’s an excerpt from a longish short story that will be posted tomorrow on one of my Yahoo groups (if you’re a member of the Virtual Living Room, you can read it there). I’ll also be posting it on my website. In the meantime, here’s a bit of it.

(or, if you’d like, you can see the whole thing at my site, which I just posted the day after posting this excerpt. HERE.)

Synopsis: Marissa knows what type of woman she doesn’t want, but when just that type asks for some help with a Valentine’s Day gift, Marissa starts to realize that maybe typecasting isn’t always a good idea.

Floral Designs
copyright 2012, Andi Marquette

bulbs

“Doing anything for Valentine’s Day?”

Marissa gave her a look as she picked up her coffee cup.

“That is, anything for yourself,” Debbie corrected. She set her own cup down on the table and blew a strand of her hair out of her face before she pushed it behind her ear, as if she were scolding it. “C’mon. It’s one of the biggest holidays of the year for flowers and flirting. You’re inundated with it at the shop. But you never do anything yourself.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need to. I get my kicks from everybody else’s running around.” She glanced at the bud jar that sat between them, and contemplated the festive but fake black-eyed Susan in it. She saw whole sagas unfold at the flower shop, many that began this time of year. Romances and love affairs that blossomed, relationships that bloomed, and in some cases, wilted. “It’s a soap opera twenty-four seven this time of year.”

“Has my little starry-eyed romantic become a cynic?” Debbie sat back, feigning horror. Her hoop earrings nearly bumped her shoulders, and Marissa wondered how she managed to wear jewelry the size of a child’s bracelet on her ears. But she did. And it worked. Debbie always managed to look like a cross between a crazy Gypsy fortune teller and a retro Soul Train dancer. Definitely not an easy thing to do, and definitely not for faint-of-heart dressers.

“Not a bit. I just prefer being the medium for others this time of year. I like helping put together just the right arrangement for the occasion. Especially when it’s guys coming in who don’t know the first thing about flowers. They’re always so grateful.”

“So you’re basically a romance enabler.”

Marissa laughed. “Why not? As long as everybody plays safe, we should all have a little bit of romance and mystery. That’s what I like about working this time of year, though we’re totally slammed.”

“What about you?”

She shook her head. “I like the romance this time of year brings, but I don’t want to engage in it myself. I wouldn’t know what to do. Things work for me, when I’m creating arrangements for others, and helping people buy flowers for someone special. You know how I am.”

“Mmm. Always the flower girl, never the girl. Do you have to actually work on Valentine’s Day?”

“You’re kidding, right? When have I not?”

She shrugged and picked up her coffee cup, nonchalant. Like she didn’t have something up her purple puffy sleeve.

“That’s the absolute biggest sales day this time of year, because everyone wants to surprise their squeezes on that day with flowers and whatever else. I’ll be booked solid. And I have regulars.”

“I’ll bet you’re the only person in the city who can say that about a flower shop.”

“What? I have customers this time of year, every year, that want specific arrangements for specific scenarios. Some of them are in long-term relationships, some are just starting, and others do flavor-of-the-month. It’s kind of interesting, how someone’s flower preferences and buying habits can tell you something about them.” She toyed with the handle of her cup and watched the barista prepare a drink. She was cute, Marissa thought, in a hipster art-chick kind of way.

“You’re also the only person I know who can turn a job at a flower shop into a psychological profile.” Debbie finished her coffee. “I’ve got to run, love. What time do you get off work on Valentine’s Day?”

“We close at seven.”

“If you’re not completely wiped out, swing by. I’m having a soiree.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“The usual bunch.”

She raised the other eyebrow.

“Tara, Onisha, Sharon, Teddy, Brandon, LaVon.” She paused. “Gabriela.”

Marissa groaned. “Would you stop?”

“What?”

“Matchmaking. Stop. I’m not looking.”

“Who’s matchmaking? I’m having a singles unite party, and you’re invited.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” she said, only a little exasperated, “but I’m seriously not looking.”

“Are you referring to Gabriela?” she asked with extra innocence. “She’s cute.”

Yes, Gabriela was cute. But she could do without her. “She’s not my type.”

“Who said anything about type? I just said she’s cute.”

“That’s a gateway phrase. It starts there and goes right to set-up.” For whatever reasons, Debbie liked Gabriela, but Marissa found her tiring, in that “trying much too hard to be cute butch” way that always turned her off. She knew that type, and she’d thus avoided much contact with Gabriela. Debbie, however, was convinced that Gabriela would be a good dating scenario for her. She’d been convinced of this for two months.

“What is your deal? You haven’t even been around her that much.”

“I’ve been around her enough to know she’s not my type.”

Debbie gave her a look, the kind of look that made her feel like a kid who’d said something stupid. “You’re reaching. I’m having people over for a gathering. You’re invited. There’s nothing to read into that.”

“I’ll see how I feel,” she said noncommittally.

“It’ll be fun.” Debbie leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, then stood to go. She left her cologne in her wake. It smelled faintly of lavender, and Marissa remembered how it used to linger on her sheets when they were seeing each other however long ago that was. A year? She answered Debbie’s wave and pulled her iPad out of her bag. A year ago? Really? A few dates here and there since, but nothing that made her want to invest more than a meal or a make-out session. Some didn’t even warrant that. She didn’t mind being single, didn’t mind spending her evenings watching movies alone or by herself or working on her art projects. She liked hiking alone, liked driving alone, and liked eating alone. She wasn’t the type of woman who was uncomfortable in her own company. It frustrated her friends, she knew, especially the ones like Debbie who kept trying to set her up. With women completely inappropriate for her. You’d think Debbie would’ve figured something out about her, since they’d been together about a year.

She checked her email, then started to read an article about a particular author she liked who had just released a book.

“Hi.”

Marissa looked up. Gabriela. She stifled a sigh. Nowhere to hide.

“Sorry,” Gabriela said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just thought I’d say hi.” She smiled in a lopsided kind of way that made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

Cute. And it annoyed the hell out of her. “Hi back,” she said, trying not to sound irritated.

“Did you read her last one?” she asked, gesturing with her to-go cup at the iPad’s screen. “I’m not sure I liked it as much as the first.”

She frowned, momentarily disconcerted that Gabriela would read something that she had. “I did. What didn’t you like about it?”

She shrugged. “The character got too whiny. How do you redeem that? She wrote her into a corner, I think, and it wouldn’t be believable if she suddenly got her shit together.”

Marissa nodded, her eyes on Gabriela’s scarf, wrapped rakishly around her neck. Her beat-up black leather jacket only accentuated it. Festive, like the colors an Indian woman might wear as a sari. Were those earrings? Yes. Yes they were. Small diamond studs. And ripped jeans and scuffed men’s black wingtips. But Gabriela was tall, and she could pull it off.

Marissa’s annoyance increased. “But don’t you think she had a reason to be whiny?”

Gabriela shrugged again. “Everybody has a reason to whine sometimes, sure. But I think it’ll be hard for her to write that character out of that space, given the way the series seems to be going.”

“Huh. How about we read it and find out?” she challenged.

She smiled, and her eyes seemed to twinkle, which added another layer to Marissa’s irritation. “Sounds good. I’ll check back. Catch you later.” She touched her eyebrow with an index finger in a salute that was more cute than anything else, and Marissa waved back, but refused — absolutely refused — to watch her leave. So not her type.

She counted to ten and looked out the café’s windows, the corners fogged on the inside. Gabriela was talking to another woman outside, dressed in a long black coat. She was laughing at something Gabriela had said, and she touched her on the arm and leaned in a little. Uh-huh, Marissa thought. Typical. Look at me, I’m so cute and sexy. I’ll suck you in and drop you like a hot rock once I bleed you dry. She grimaced. No matter what Debbie thought, women who looked like Gabriela were trouble. Women like Gabriela had reps, and they left trails of broken hearts. They went for the pretty girls, but chatted up the not-so-pretty and nerdy, to get their hopes up before they crashed them to earth. Good thing she was immune to women like that. I’m on to you, she thought, as the woman in the long coat handed Gabriela what looked like a business card. I am so on to you.

She returned to reading the article, but looked up again a few seconds later, as if she were trying to prove her theories about Gabriela, who was still talking to the woman in the long coat. As Marissa watched, the woman smiled and walked away. Gabriela checked her phone, then glanced up, through the windows, and caught Marissa’s gaze. She grinned, waved again, and turned away before she, too, walked away in the same direction the woman in the long coat had gone. Nodding satisfactorily because she had Gabriela figured out, she went back to the article on her iPad.

end of teaser

Hope you wanna catch the rest of it…