New Novel: Endless Blue Sky
My new novel was recently published on City Works Press.Set in San Diego, Endless Blue Sky is a strange take on work, sex, family and all that sweet, sweet dysfunction. You can find the book at https://t.co/MhH7VWVpOdChapter 1: Before
It wasn’t a real argument. The real ones were emotionally bloody, with all past grievances grandfathered in. This was just spit-spatting at each other, nurturing those bitter feelings for later. Why’d you go this way? How was I supposed to know that was important to you? Can you pass this truck already?
They were going to a party empty-handed.
“I thought you were picking up chips and salsa?”
“Why is that my responsibility?”
He made a sudden right into the Vons parking lot. The car rocked as they barreled up the driveway.
“Ea-sy!” she said. He grabbed the first available space and powered out of the car before she could unlatch her belt.
“Don’t get those weird, blue chips you like,” she said. “Think of someone else.” He took the keys and carefully slammed the door.
It was early evening, and the store was crowded. They had the blue chips on the end cap. He got those and some regular chips. The store was relentlessly bright. Someone had dropped a bottle of cranberry juice, gumming up one of the aisles. He picked up guac and salsa and then some hummus, just for kicks.
He headed for the express checkout, one of three people converging on the same spot in line. He let the other two go first. A woman fell in behind him with just a cantaloupe. He let her go, too.
He felt comfortable in line. Everyone was friendly. The cashier was busy but not rushed. She chatted affably with the regulars and scanned each item in a slow, steady motion.
Small, happy reunions were taking place all around him. A group of women shared a laugh with a clerk at the bakery counter. The line moved forward, but he felt no need to follow and let two more go ahead.
He read all the tabloid covers. Barbra Streisand Drives Off Space Invaders With Alien Death Song!
Bald, genderless, space beings recoiled from Barbra’s wide-open maw. He laughed out loud and waved three more in front. No one seemed to notice what he was doing; they were just happy to move forward. He heard the Honda’s tinny horn in the parking lot and thought: I’ll just say they were writing checks. People never fill out the date and payee information ahead of time. They all had 16 items, too.