Okay, the full version of this chapter brings us up to speed. As I noted before, the conversation between Mark and Lenara needs some work, but there are some things I like in this chapter. I am considering that this chapter might need to be become a flashback, which might be clear when you read the next chapter. I don't know. I like this chapter being the first glimpse of Mark as he's... not quite right... when next seen. Another problem I have is that Lenara mostly disappears for awhile after this chapter, only to come back strongly and in an important way later. Since she's featured so much early in the book, I think I need to work her in more throughout the book. Well, there's always the next draft, lol.
E4, Chapter 3
The tires of Mark’s rusty Karmann Ghia trundled down the gravel driveway beside the Montiero household. He had stopped to sleep and to grab a couple of meals along the way back to New Jersey but, once back in the slow-moving town of Tempest, he had appeared as a rusty, orange fireball soaring across the roads of his hometown. There were things he wanted to see again in Tempest, sure. But Mark’s heart had thumped anxiously the moment he got into town, scared of but excited about his approaching reunion. He imagined and dreaded the difficult, awkward conversation he was sure to have with Jeff. There was something else, though; the feeling of a mission.
Mark grinded the Ghia to a stop in front of the beat-up farmhouse, swung open the car door and flung himself at the rustic porch. There was no time to think, just knock, knock, knock. He did so. And waited. And waited a bit more.
Mark’s stomach fell as he realized no one was home…or answering the door, at least. He peered around the porch, past the uncut bush at its side, and saw that there were no other cars in the driveway besides his. No, no one was home.
Mark stepped back into the driveway and squinted helplessly at the roof of the house. “Now what?” he asked out loud. Now he was going to have to lose and re-find his resolve one again.
Mark turned back to his car and paused. For the first time since getting back to Tempest, he noticed that it was getting cold.
***
Any den of ineptitude, any dive, Lenara Quesal was at home. Now, she wasn’t insulting her own character by admitting that. She was royal blood; there was no room for low self-image. Rather, she prided herself on being a chameleon. She could stride into a meeting place that appealed to commoners or even those of a haughty high station and converse with any chosen individual, even steal the party if she sought to. If they were exposed to only one side of her personality, even be it a side that left her with some form of personal disdain, she could live with it. As long as her job got done. There was usually money or other wealth involved in her work and tonight was no different. Of course, if the job she was there to do tonight was profitable, why was she feeling a prickly pang of guilt?
Lenara folded away her inner queries into the Sometime Quite Later File and pulled her face into a delightfully seductive stare. The one that came naturally to her when she let it. Cheshire smile, auburn hair teased over the edges of her tan cheeks and both her green eye and her blue eye aglow.
This was Mekong’s before her, a little bar on the fringe edge of a rural-ish town called Tempest, New Jersey. A dive. The walls were cracked stucco and illuminated beer signs beckoned from the cloudy windows. The wooden door muffled throbbing rock music. Quaint. Lenara straightened her white jacket, white like the rest of her outfit, and pushed open the door.
The smoke hit her like a brick. And though hazy, the situation inside became obvious. All men. All looking at her, gawking at her lithe assets. All but one. He was leaning on the bar, the tip of his forehead touching the bottle he hunched in his hands, as if willing the liquid directly into his brain. He was mid-20s, maybe a little younger than her although that admission would stay in her mouth. He had a farmer’s tan, the lighter sections of his football-like biceps visible under his rolled-up sleeves. His hair was black and spiked like a little porcupine. Lenara caught a giggle in her throat. His face was angular and severe but his expression was soft, something damaged. Cute, she assessed. Maybe the kind of guy who would lap up her advanced like a porcupine lapping up milk. Hmmm, she thought, do porcupines drink milk?
Lenara strutted past the other guys, most of them already starting their wicked glances and preparing their opening lines. She blatantly ignored them and took a barstool next to the guy not paying any attention to her.
His eyes were closed. She drew her hips across the stool and propped her forearms on the bar so she was in his sight. His personal space punctured, he sensed her and glanced up at her somewhat irritably but his expression switched to shock, his brown eyes blaring as if flicked on by a light switch. It was quick and he drew a hand across his face.
“Um, hello?” he greeted her.
Lenara looked him up and down and nodded. “Hey,” she said, seductively soft, “I give you a fright?”
He looked down at the drink cupped in his hands. “No. Just startled me. You reminded me of someone. For a second, anyway. Like there was something similar in spirit.”
“So,” Lenara said, changing the subject, “What’s your name?”
“Mark,” he offered, saluting her with his drink. He had gone from frustration with her presence to a sort of cautious fascination.
“Lenara,” she said. “Tempest here is kind of out of the way. You live here?”
“Yeah. No, not anymore,” he said. “I’ve been living in North Carolina. Came back to help a friend.”
“Help him move to a new house?”
Mark looked at the bar with nebulous guilt. “Not exactly.”
Lenara leaned into him and pressed his arm. “You’re built well. What do you do?” Mark didn’t respond to her touch but he didn’t move away, either. He clutched his drink tighter and shot her a pointed stare.
“What do you do?” he asked.
Lenara smiled and flipped a lock of hair that was hanging over her face. “Well…I’m in exports,” she said. “It’s not very exciting.” She looked up at him bashfully and they both chuckled.
“I’m a ballplayer,” Mark gently offered.
“Ahh,” she said impishly. “I was gonna guess that.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mark said.
“Really,” she said. “It’s the shirt.”
“My shirt?”
“Yeah,” she said, lightly tugging on his sleeve. “The kind with the white center and the blue sleeves. Don’t basesball players wear those?”
“Baseball, you mean?”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I guess we do.”
“Do you like it?” she asked. “Not the shirt, the game.”
Mark halted and looked into his drink, his mouth stalling on an answer. He finally said, “Well, I’m good at it. I might get some time in the majors in a season or two.”
Lenara leaned back on the bar and looked at him with concern. “You don’t look happy about it. What you do for a living should make you happy,” she stated with an exaggerated nod.
Mark sheepishly grinned. “I play ball. Not to much to complain about when you’re talking to a guy who works in a factory, y’know?”
Lenara tapped her fingers on the bar and paused to make him a proposition. “Would you like a different job, Mark?”
Mark looked quizzically up at her. “What do you mean?”
“A new profession,” she said in a clipped, hushed voice and catching his eyes with an enticing stare. “Maybe something you’re more sure you’ll like. All I can tell you at this point, and, I quote my employer, is, ‘It’s a chance to make a difference.’”
Mark ran his knuckles over the bar’s smooth but cloudy wooden surface. “It would depend. I’m not even sure why you’re asking me this.”
It seemed, Lenara observed, that the matter of fulfillment had piqued his interest.
Lenara exhaled and stared absently at the far wall. “Who did I remind you of, Mark?”
Mark’s head sunk and Lenara thought that he had closed her out. Drat, she should have kept being sensitive. But then he talked.
“Her name was Sam,” he quietly explained, looking into the fluid before him. “A few years ago, she was murdered.”
Lenara looked over and saw that he was mentally somewhere else.
“I remember when we found out,” he continued. “My friend Jeff and I, we were at this bar, sitting right where the two of us are sitting now. Jeff was dating her at the time. When the television gave the news, he fell to the ground, crushed.” Mark took a long sip of his drink, then ran a hand along his face. “I just remember going numb, feeling all youth and passion bleed away.”
“Then what?” Lenara asked.
“Then, eventually,” Mark said, “I moved. Left everyone.” He went quiet and looked away.
“You would welcome an opportunity to alleviate past regrets?” she asked matter-of-factly.
Mark regarded her and she could see he was confused and suspicious. “What are you aiming at?” he said. “You didn’t hit a few bars before here, did you?”
“It’s tied into my offer,” she said sternly. “I will tell you more. But for right now, I need to know if you’re open to some adventure.”
“Mark rolled it around in his head for a few seconds and then shrugged, exasperated. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but why the hell not?”
“Very good,” Lenara commended, rubbing his arm. She stood up from her barstool and dropped money on the counter to pay for his drink. “I’ll be in touch, dear.” She saw he was perplexed. “Don’t look so down,” she said, “I think you’re going to like this. I do.”
Mark rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Well…ah…I’ll be at the motel on Davenport.”
“Are you headed there now?” she inquired. “Or perhaps you’ll see some of the old sites of town first?” The way she asked it was more of a strong suggestion.
Mark squinted at her, then shrugged. “I’ll take a drive by the site of the old Tempest Fair. It’s been awhile, though. Maybe once I’m okay to drive.”
Lenara raised an eyebrow and leaned over to get a better look at his drink. “Aren’t you drinking mineral water?” she asked.
Mark issued a dry laugh. “I’m not much of a drinker. I just need some time.”
“As you wish,” she said. Lenara touched his chin, feeling his short stubble. His look was questioning, curious. Perfect. He was intrigued but not too spooked. “I’ll be in touch,” she repeated, giving him a glimmering smile. The she turned and strode away, once again avoiding the come-ons of the other bar patrons. Well, half of them, anyway. The others were staring jealously at Mark.
***
Mark watched Lenara exit the bar and turned slowly back to his water. “This town gets weirder every day,” he mumbled. Mark didn’t know what kind of job she was offering but she knew how to press the right buttons, like she knew him and he had forgotten her. The notion of job fulfillment, though, was not going to whitewash the furor of the past that emanated from Tempest and that he carried everywhere with him inside his skull.
***
Lenara looked all around as she exited Mekong’s and was relieved to see that no prying eyes were prowling the parking lot. She dropped into the evening shadows behind the bar and the trees, looking once again behind her to make sure she hadn’t been followed by some relentless drunk. Satisfied, Lenara walked behind the large dumpster to where she had hidden the car.
Even in low light, the car’s purple paint was glimmering. If the odd color didn’t attract attention, the fact that it was a classic Duesenberg touring car tended to. It was a mammoth of an automobile, long and elegant with curved rims and brass fittings galore. It’s orb-like headlights and nose poked out from behind the dumpster, as did it’s rear, giving the appearance of a lion naively thinking it had found a wonderful hiding place behind a toaster. It was beautiful, no doubt, but was also a natural draw to attention and Lenara needed to have a private conversation with someone.
He was standing on the Duesenberg’s roof, an apparition that was barely there besides a faint outline in the night air. Whatever kind of outfit he was wearing gave the appearance of some sort of armor. His head was helmeted as always and Lenara thought she could make out pointed teeth on it but it was like squinting under muddy water, trying to see. His arms, though, she could tell they were not like human arms. They looked more like tentacles, long and rippling as he stood there. This all put Lenara on edge but it was nothing compared to his voice, an echoing, sneering tone that seemed to come from behind you when he was right there in front of you.
“Did you ask him?” he demanded.
“I did,” she said, “but how did you know he would be there? Or that he would be going down Mill Road to where the Tempest Fair used to be? How did you anticipate such detail?”
“Because I know him well,” he explained, not offering anymore. Lenara knew better than to press an employer too much. “What did he say?” the apparition’s disembodied voice asked.
“I think he’s interested,” Lenara said, grinning. “He wasn’t terribly enthusiastic and was confused but I could see in his eyes that the offer intrigued him.”
“Perfect,” the voice said. “Then we shall proceed.”
“But it’s not like he even knew what he was agreeing to,” Lenara interjected. “It was more tentative.”
“The details are unimportant. If you had said everything, he’d have written you off,” the voice said. “I needed to know that the desire was within him when presented with the possibility of change. He needed to have a choice. From what you’re saying, it was.”
“Yes, that could be said,” Lenara admitted, not completely satisfied. The vague trappings of this job were bothering her and she wasn’t used to second-guessing herself where work was involved. She knew the gist of what she was being paid to set up but she had not been told the reasons behind it.
“Excellent,” the voice said, the apparition on the car not budging at all. “Then we move forward. I hope you will continue to honor my wish to not tell your boss, Colonel Brixton, about our business.”
“I’ve got tight lips,” she assured him.
“I trust you do,” the voice said, sounding confident. Lenara saw the apparition fade from its place atop the car, leaving only the dark shadows of the trees above. Her neck bristled when the voice returned despite that.
“Now, go,” it said. “You have an accident to stage.”
2 comments:
An interesting end to the chapter and it does help set up what is happening in the bar but the bar scene itself, as I said before, still needs dialogue help in the form of information giving.
While the end of the chapter helps explain some of the odd things that lenara and mark discuss, the reader is forced to wonder at the believability of the dialogue before the resolution at the end. While the reader does want to see what is haoppening with lenara and mark if the conversation is not plausible then they may not stay around to the conclusion to have it explained.
If I can go back to the topic of scene/location/description that I touched on in chapter 2 I have some questions about the Mekong. You describe it as a dive bar and honestly describe it quite well, that is the description of the place, but its location in the world is what I am calling into question. Lenara says, "Tempest here is kind of out of the way. do you live here?" It is just an odd question, let me hopefully try and explain. I can gather lenara knows mark is not from around there and thus the question makes sense in her mind, but mark who doens't know her she be taken quite aback by the question and should put him on a devensive stance. he knows he is not from "here" so why would a stranger ask him this, unless that person is a regular at the bar who doesn't recognize him (and lenara's attire [what description you give] seems out-of-place for a dive bar)or as said before someone who knows him. If lenara is believed by mark to not fit in with the bar surroundings as being a regular then he rightfully should assume that she is a stranger herself and by this reguard would not know if mark is a regular to this bar or not; that is if mark is a regular to this bar then he might as well live near the mekong and thus being in tempest would not be "out-of-the-way" for him. See? If i am making my point across it is to simply say why would a stranger ask a regular if they are in an out-of place place; this would lead to immediate suspicion. No one goes driving to find the most out of the place town to drink at a no name bar that resides in this out of the place place; this would be a regulars type bar. I also have the feeling being a dive bar that is "full of men" that strangers would stick out like sore thumbs. while some may remember mark, from his time with jeff at the bar, mark could be seens as something that would more blend in to the surroundings while lenara does not. Instead of just glaring looks from other patrons it might be more plausible that they would come up to mark and ask him where he knows her some; this could also play inot your benefit as mark to chat with other patrons that he has no idea who she is or why he had an almost uncontrollable willingness to tell her everything she asked about.
I know the first time I wrote to you about this chapter I talked about the dialogue and I already somewhat touched on it here but I want to look at it more closely again. The dialogue seems stifled i think because of an overall situation. Here we have Lenara who, due to her employeer, must know a decent amount about mark before she even meets him. All of her questions are more for the benefit of the reader than for herself; it seems though that in writing this you precieved the conversation from her point of view and not marks. What i mean is that she can ask the questions she already knows about and we believe her asking but put the conversation in marks point of view she is way too intelligent in the conversation for his own good. You have mark comment how it was almost like he knew her before but forgot her so I know you have glanced at marks point of veiw in the situation but overall the conversation needs to be from him and not her. Lenara knows about him already so his responses are of little use to her so it would not effect the overall situation if he lies to her, even gives her a flase name, as long as he agrees that he is looking for "adventure" which might be better described as a "getting away from all of this" than a cliche of "adventure." If you have mark's comments be lies, even if we view the scene from lenara's view point, and have lenara admit to herself that he is staging a decent cover and is being rightfully stand-offish it doesn't hurt the the overall story at all but in fact makes the scene more believable. if this was a scene in which you wanted to introduce Mark to the reader more than this will always be a difficult conversation. If you use chapter 1 to describe marks history/appearence than the reader will not be bothered by his suspicions of lenara's question and his defensive responses. In fact Lenara may be willing to be impressed by his defensiveness and think that he might be something of value or has something to hide and that her employeer does have good reason to be interested in him.
One sentence really bothered me. "the fluid before him", remember the thesaurus can be your worst enemy. A drink is a drink whether water or booze. Pee is a fluid. Oil is a fluid. Mark is having a drink not commiting suicide.
On a lighter note lenara's tight lips made me think: "is she a virgin?" hahahaha
Tempest I describe in later chapters as being located near a college, but I might delete that. But if I kept it, it would help describe why different people might come to the bar. But I do think I need to make it seem like Lenara is more familiar with the town (which you fond out later she is, since she's been living just oustide it).
But yeah, Mark's willingness to talk needs to be more believable. I think maybe they should have more time together, and she should explain more about herself (even if it's lies). Should be more natural. But the idea about Mark talking to the other patrons is something that I'd like to incorporate, too.
Post a Comment