Novel Treatments / First Dead Chapter 2
After fishing his phobic hundred-pound Doberman from the drink, and spending an hour blow-drying and babying said neurotic pet, Pike needed a drink.
A really big one.
Swiping a comb through his hair and a razor across his chin, careful to avoid the fist-sized bruise, Pike dressed in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a pineapple colored shirt with a parrot emblazoned over his heart and headed for Love Street and the Square Grouper Tiki Bar.
Pike hated the Tiki Bar, but it was the one place in Jupiter where he was guaranteed not to run into anyone he knew, or who knew him. Or that he owed money to, had slept with in the past year, or in the worst case scenario, both.
Pike figured nobody over the age of thirty would drink in a bar that featured body shots, and umbrella drinks with names like Sex on a White Sandy Beach with the Lifeguard on Duty.
You did not want to know what was in it.
Since Pike had passed the thirty-fifth year marker a few weeks earlier, the Tiki Bar seemed like a perfect hideout. Until he walked inside its brightly lit bar, passed a few frat boys and debutants sucking tequila from each others naughty parts, and saw the supposed next president of the good old US of A on the big screen TV.
Jefferson James Parker, all white teeth and hair gel, smiled down from the big screen, his eyes as big as the rock on Julia’s finger. The news report offered the latest poll numbers, with Parker in the lead by twenty points. Pike shook his head, and contemplated moving to Costa Rica.
“What can I get ya?” A waitress in a bikini top and sarong tapped him on the shoulder.
“Beer.”
“All right.” She smiled with fake enthusiasm, earning her tip. “We got Bud, Bud Light, Red Stripe, Heineken...” And on and on she went, listing every beer known to man.
Pike stopped her halfway through. “Forget it. Just bring me a whiskey.”
Her smile faltered. “Okay, we’ve got--”
“Water,” he said. “Bring me a glass of water. Tap water.”
“Would you like a lemon with that?” She laughed at his expression, and disappeared into the crowd to get the drink.
Pike sat down at a small, round table with four-foot, plastic-coated stools. Stools specifically made for places like this, and drunken college kids like these. For one, if you were too drunk to sit on the stood, you could always use it to proper yourself up, and two, puke was much easier to clean off plastic coating.
“Your water.” The waitress set a glass down in front of him, with a pink plastic sword stabbing a bright yellow fruit slice. Chunks of murdered lemon swirled around the glass.
“Thanks.” Pike handed her a few bucks, and sipped his lukewarm chlorinated beverage without grimacing. His eyes roamed the bar, tracking the movements of the rowdiest of patrons, and taking special note of those who appeared harmless. A sad side effect of his former career.
“Pike? Is that you?” A redhead with a short skirt, and a pink blouse shoved her way to his table. “I can’t believe it.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Patty.” He smiled his best ‘sorry I haven’t called’ smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Me and some of the girls from the office stopped off after work for happy hour.” She motioned to the sixty-ounce Sex on Something drink in her hand.
Girls from the office was code for a pack of hungry, middle aged cougars who practiced divorce law all week, and prowled for boy-toys on the weekends. He waved to the pack sitting two tables away. Not one of them waved back. Guess my boy-toy days were over, he thought, not caring one way or the other.
Pike smiled at Patty, fondly remembering their on again off again relationship. They’d been on the off again side for three months, but watching her tanned legs bounce to the pounding music, he considered pressing the on button one more time.
“She’s in town, you know.” Patty waved to the television screen, and the frozen image of on it.
Pike didn’t bother to glance up. “Yeah, I saw.”
“Can you imagine being the daughter of the President, and engaged to the next president?” Her face heated with alcohol and excitement. “It’s like every girl’s fantasy.”
Or nightmare.
“Wasn’t she married before?” Patty rubbed her chin. “To her butler or something.”
Not exactly.
“No, that wasn’t it.” Laughing, she added, “It was her bodyguard. She eloped with some corrupt Secret Service--”
“Waitress!” Pike flagged down Lemon-girl, and pointed to Patty’s Sex in Something drink. “Bring us two of those, and make’em doubles.”
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Dobermans have really short hair so it seems unreasonable that it would take one hour to blow dry his coat.
who is Julia and is she important to Pike?
proper yourself up – did you mean ‘prop’ here?
‘chunks of murdered lemon swirled’ – this is a great line, very vivid and graphic
Tap water typically isn’t chlorinated unless you are trying to describe the taste. If that is so I would consider re-phrasing the line to something like:
‘sipped his lukewarm beverage, with a distinctly chlorinated taste and tried not to grimace.”
Third person – Shit. Shit. Shit. He thought.
Oh I see the relationship to Julia now – okay when she is first introduce with the big rock the reader is going to need a little more reference material. You don’t need to give it all away but enough to signify her role within the story.
For a novel treatment this is engaging with a nice pace between narration and dialogue. You set up Pike and his current place in the world nicely. I would definitely continue on with the story.
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fun title. it caught my eye.
“After fishing his phobic hundred-pound”—what’s the dog’s phobia? water? that would be my guess. maybe considering making it more concrete. or not. up to you. good opening line. also an attention grabber.
Pike is a fun character. Although, I might disagree that anyone over the age of 30 would drink at said bar. I’d go there in a heartbeat.
“You did not want to know what was in it.”—suspended in mid-air, this line felt out of place. it’s a fine line, but it’s not strong enough to stand on its own. in my humble opinion.
“Until he walked inside..”—this sentence becomes an unwelcome fragment. it’s not complete. maybe consider linking it to the previous sentence, maybe a comma.
“She laughed at his expression”—what expression? his facial expression or what he just said? if face, then show me his face. i have no visual.
“Chunks of murdered lemon”—nice. enjoyed this. thus far, the pace is very nice too. simple and easy, often funny. well done.
“a short skirt, and a pink blouse”—kill the comma
good close.
overall-
nicely done. i enjoyed this. clear characters and setting, and a bit of tension and set-up of things to come.
criticisms?
small bloops, i pointed out a few. not a whole lot more to complain about.
good work.
Your characters are so real and believable. The dialogue has a great natural flow. I am assuming the formatting is due to urbis. I am enjoying the story so much I am going to read chapter 1 too. Keep submitting the great work.
“Patty.” He smiled his best ‘sorry I haven’t called’ smile. “What are you doing here?” “Sorry I haven’t called”
Or nightmare. should be in quatations.
Not exactly. should be in quatations.
Your writing craft is solid. The characters are slightly unlikable, but I’m interested to see where this story goes. Here are my humble suggestions:
The indecision about what to drink seemed out of place. You told us he needed a really big drink. I would go with whiskey in a high-ball glass right away, and specify the brand. It’s decisive and demonstrates male maturity. Then you can use his handling of the whiskey glass to show his emotions (impatience, anxiety, irritation, etc.) and omit the “shit, shit, shit,” which seems overly distressful given that you later tell us that he doesn’t care about the women.
Good work.
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