From Vigo to Vega

“In every phenomenon the beginning remains always the most notable moment.”
Thomas Carlyle

2 YEARS AGO
The scene: At a table outside the Cafe Parisia along the river.

Vincent: “I really think you should join. I mean, it’s a great way to meet people and see the city when you’re new in town, which you are ya know.”

Claire: “What kind of people go to these things?”

Vincent: “Oh, all kinds. Mostly business types. We mingle, eat, drink and trade business cards. And we call it work and expense the entire evening.”

Claire: “Sounds more like a monthly party.”

Vincent (laughing): “Yeah, yeah, it can be. But seriously, will you go? There’s an event just a couple of weeks from now at Elsie’s. I could give Marie a ring. I bet she’d let you in for free your first time.”

Claire: “Marie?”

Vincent: “Oh, yeah. She’s the brains behind The Chamber. She books all the events and caters to the people.”

Claire: “What’s she like?”

Vincent: “She’s … she’s … just Marie. You’ll have to see for yourself. Everyone knows her.”

Claire: “What’s her last name?”

Vincent: “Huh, ya know, I used to know it. But for some reason, I can’t remember it now. But really, all you have to know is that she’s Marie. You’ll see for yourself. She’s just Marie.”

Claire: “What? Is she like Madonna or something? Too good for a last name?”

Vincent (chuckling): “No, no, not at all. I just can’t remember it. So, will you go?”

Claire (shrugging): “Go ahead and call Marie What’s-Her-Face. If she can get me in, sure, I’ll go. Might be nice to meet some new people.”

Vincent: “I’ll call her this afternoon. This will be a good beginning for you. You’ll see.”

“The commonest mistake in history is underestimating your opponent; it happens at the poker table all the time.”
David Shoup

It was with a horrible distaste that she accepted this luncheon invitation and she knew what the distaste was. Truthfully, it hadn’t been an invitation at all. It was blackmail. Plain and simple.

Claire still wasn’t altogether positive how she found out what she thought she knew. And she had spent many of the past 72 hours since the dreaded phone call trying to piece it all together in her mind.

No, it wasn’t clear at all what Vivian truly knew to be fact. But she’d given just enough away during the course of their 10-minute conversation to convince Claire that she did know something. What that something was though, she couldn’t say.

And that was why she was there; sitting alone on a bar stool at Bella’s, drinking a beer much too early in the day and smoking a rare cigarette she’d scored off the bartender. She had to find out what Vivian knew. She just couldn’t play the poker game she knew she must unless she knew what cards everyone was holding.

This game was just too dangerous to bluff. For all of them.

(more…)

Two years. It’s been almost two years since I left off the story. And then something strange happened and the story called to me again. I’m sure you’ll have to re-read everything to get familiar again. I know I did. Truth and lies, fact and fiction. That’s what the story always was and what it will continue to be. I’m breathing life back into my characters and hoping (as you probably do) that they can resolve their conflicts somehow, some way.

So take a refresher course if you must,
and then plunge ahead.
Because the story continues.
The story’s far from dead.

~shelby

“Wonder is the basis of worship.”
Thomas Carlyle

The sky was darkening rapidly beyond the 11th story windows but Conrad couldn’t take the time to notice. Clients’ files buried his small desk space and the phone rang incessantly despite the late hour.

A year ago, his life had been so different. There weren’t hundreds of clients to keep tabs on and the phone in his home office rarely rang. But that was because there were no clients. He had been trying for two years to run his business, but it had ended up running him … and ruining him. Finally, the unpaid bills had stacked up higher than the pathetic pile of client folders and he had been forced to bow out.

Thank God for that, he thought.

(more…)

I miss my dad. Don’t get me wrong … I always miss him. But the holidays make me miss him more.

Thanksgiving was easier this year; probably because I didn’t go home and I wasn’t in those familiar surroundings with the photos and the memorabilia everywhere. (Must remember to write a post-Thanksgiving blog. Was quite the memorable holiday.)

But Christmas …

I know it’s not the firsts anymore. I know we’ve gotten through all that. But the closer Christmas gets, the closer the day comes that I have to drive home, … the more I miss him.

I remember right after he died, I had a dream about him and I wish I could still remember it as well as I did when I first awoke. In the dream, he and I were talking and laughing. It doesn’t matter what it was about. What really mattered is that I heard his voice. I sat upright in bed the next morning and wished with all my heart that I had a recording of him talking and laughing. But I don’t. And I’m afraid that I’m going to lose that.

Something is definitely missing.

OK, I’ve been horrible about posting to this blog. So I’m going to start again. Even if it means posting duplicate blogs on MySpace and here. This is a duplicate that I wrote today. But I think I’m going to use this one more again…because fewer people know about this one.

Hello??? Hello??? Yeah, you see me, right? Remember, I’m that little girl with the long, red hair? Yeah, that’s me. Wait, did you just walk right past me, look me dead in the eyes and keep on walking? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was you.

Hey you, person driving in front of me. Yeah, you. I’ve watched you comb your hair for the last four blocks. But now we’re stopped and the light is green. You do hear my horn, right? Hon, whoever you are … male or female … I think your hair looks gorgeous from back here as far as I can tell. Think maybe you could hurry it on through that intersection now? I’m a little late for work. I hear my horn. Can you not hear it?

Yeah, I was there. You invited me and I showed up. I think maybe I was there for almost two hours. I even talked to you! I’m pretty sure you responded … or maybe you were talkin’ to the guy behind me? I’m suddenly not so sure. Were you drinking? Maybe you blacked out. I swear I was there. Did you not see me? By the way, you took a freakin’ picture of me. Look at your damn camera, will ya?

You’ve got totally the wrong idea. I mean, I explained this entire situation to you twice in two days. Can you hear me? I mean, I hear me talking. Can you not hear me? Should I speak up? Maybe you’re just not listening. There is a difference you know. Was I too subtle? How can I be more clear? I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea. But I heard me talking. I’m 99% sure it was my voice.

Yes, sir, I gave it to you. I put it right there where you asked me to. No, I don’t know where it might have gone. I gave it to you, remember? Are there little gremlins in here now? Taking away the things I touch? Or are they all invisible too?

Yep, we did discuss that. It was a couple months ago. You said this, and I said that, and then I think you responded and I might’ve even said something back again. That’s a discussion right? I remember where we were and even what tie you were wearing. It was navy blue with thin, white pinstripes. Yeah, I have a great memory for these things. I don’t know why. But anyway, I’m pretty sure we talked about that.

Look, I have the e-mail right here in my “sent” folder. I never delete anything. It says this and that and I sent it to you on such-and-such a date. Yep, that’s your e-mail address. Maybe you didn’t see it? Maybe you didn’t open it? But I sent it and I told you and you didn’t respond, but for goodness sakes I thought you’d at least have read it! Maybe you missed it. Here, I’ll send it again. Try to read it this time, OK?

I did call like I said I would. I called your cell phone that afternoon like you asked me to. You didn’t answer. I left you a voice mail. That was two weeks ago. You didn’t call back. I’ve been busy. I’m sorry. I thought you got the message and you’d call me back when you had a chance. Look here, I have it on my “call list”. There’s your name and there’s your number and I called you at this time on this date. Don’t you have caller ID? Don’t you listen to your messages? I swear I called. I’ll have my cell phone company send you a list of my calls over the past month. Please, let’s not argue anymore. I’m afraid you might not hear me.

Why do you want to see me? You didn’t see me before when I was there. You didn’t take the time to stop and talk to me. So why should I care? Are you serious? Oh, so now we have to talk, huh? Sure, sure. Should I wear something bright so maybe you see me this time? Here, let me help you out. I’ll wear a white-feather boa around my neck. I’ll be the red-head decked out in feathers. Think that will do the trick?

No, no, no. Again, you weren’t listening to me. I said I was going to go there and not come here. So why did you tell her that I wouldn’t show up and not to call me? What was that all about? Everyone was surprised when I showed up and I had to go into these big explanations … not that anyone heard me. I get it now.

Listen, people. I am not cellophane. And I’m certainly not going to do the female version of the rendition from “Chicago.” Listen up, really hear me, watch me come and go. But I’m not invisible. I’m here. Flesh and blood. Voice and horn. Yep, that’s me. Are we crystal?