I did it again. Somehow, chapter 7 became its own entity and the outline I had written out turned into chapter eight’s plot. I’m okay with this for two reasons. One, after writing a 10,000 word plus chapter a few short chapters won’t kill me. Two, this chapter has such great pace it doesn’t feel deprived of anything. In fact, quite the opposite. If I would’ve forced it into being what the outline stated, it would’ve tanked. At any rate, I’m pumped and ready to give you a quick look at Leander Easter.
A pale woman with blonde hair twisted in a bun pressed herself against a man who, for all intents and purposes, looked more suspect than employee. He had shaggy hair the color of wet sand with threads of blond all throughout. His five o’ clock shadow, white button down shirt and dark jeans gave him a certain slacker appeal, but I’d never been much for men without modesty.
It didn’t take two good eyes to see what was coming. These love birds were seconds away from heavy petting. Eager to have this whole miserable experience done with, I wrapped on the glass and called out, “There’s a reason third base is close to home.” Both turned my way. The woman looked slightly embarrassed, but her cohort was more put-off than anything else. He gave me an aggravated sneer right before I gestured to their still awkwardly close positions.
“It requires privacy. You generally find that at home. Not in public and not at work.” The woman smoothed her gray, pencil skirt and hurried over. Casanova stayed in place, a slight curl to his lips.
“What can I help you with?” She said, motioning for my paper.
“I need to file this report. An Officer directed me here because it involves a Rothgar.” Casanova walked over and tore the report from his almost-lover’s hand as if she had no business reading it before him. Ass.
“A Rothgar did that to you?” His voice surged with inquisition, authority and a trace of something else; something I could definitely relate to: cynicism.
“I’m not sure. He spoke Rothgarian during my attack though.”
“Are we determining ethnicity by language now, Miss…” The detective searched for my name on the report. When he found it, his eyebrows formed a thoughtful V. “Miss Silk?” It was a rhetorical question. That much was obvious unfortunately for him my bruise and I weren’t in the mood for games.
“Not to my knowledge Detective…”
“Easter, Leander Easter.” He finished proudly. I gave him a terse nod.
“Not to my knowledge, Detective Easter, but I was told to file the report here so that’s what I’d like to do. If you’ve got time that is.”