SHE'S BACK ....

Hi, everyone,

Well, it's Friday and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend planned. Chicago will be COLD and dreary, so I will be staying closed in reading Romantic Friday Writers' post.

Yes, it's that time again. We have another prompt this week. We are celebrating Denise and Donna's birthdays! Happy birthday ladies! And happy birthday to ALL October babies.

So challenge #46 is based on an elaborate birthday where the mc finds himself/herself out of sorts and with an inappropriate gift. Sound so humiliating and embarrassing, doesn't it?

Well for this challenge I decided to bring back my characters from prompt 44... She... written in Film Noir style.

It's a genre I am toying with and hope to turn into a novella. Let me know what you think. I would appreciate your opinions.

So without further adieu here's my entry at 399 words ....

Flash bulbs pop as a black limo door opens. A silky leg unfolds and she steps out, draped in an ebony mink stole. Hidden behind a sheer black veil, her gloved hand laces into the arm of a grey-haired man.

He whisks her through the columned portico and into the gilded lobby of the Drake. The paparazzi clamor closely behind, only to be shut out by two husky men, patrolling the entrance to the Palm Court. 

The melodic strum of a harp mingles with hushed voices as two patent leather, ankle-strapped pumps tap on the travertine floor. A waiter rushes to her side to light the cigarette anxiously awaiting. She inhales from a jeweled holder as the rhinestones reflect the dazzling crystal chandelier soaring above her head.

Screened in a cloud of silvery smoke, the lighter clicks and the waiter disappears.

“Mr. Sinclair,” a voice rings out. “Welcome, and congratulations.” A stocky man approaches, extending an arm.

“Marcel. Thank you.” They clasp hands. 

“I hope everything is to your satisfaction,” Marcel says, a bead of sweat lingering on his brow.

“It’s fine, Marcel. Isn’t it my dear?” He places a manicured hand around her cinched waist.

She nods.

As couples gather with “Happy birthday” gracing their lips, the mountain of Tiffany boxes weigh heavily on a carved mahogany table stationed next to the celebrated couple.  

A single man lurks behind a massive Corinthian column. His eyes glance from the tinkling marble fountain; to the floral arrangement featuring hundreds of white orchids; and finally rest on the man and the array of presents piled a mile high next to him.

He lowers his head and fumbles with a cellophane-taped package wrapped clumsily in brown and white striped paper. Large callused hands press the wrinkled suit jacket.

“What the hell am I doing here anyway?” He brushes the loose hair away from his eyes and focuses on the woman. 

She is perfectly poised. Glossy, red lips are the only portion of her face unhidden. An occasional drag on her cigarette parts her bow-shaped mouth. Treading toward the couple, his eyes never wander from her.

He clears his throat.

Both their heads turn.

“You came?”

He lowers his gaze to meet the older man’s eyes. “Ah, this if for you.”

He tosses the gift onto the pile.

The younger man’s face flushes.

“Nephew, this is my secretary, Miss Donavan.”

Well, I hope this has you intrigued. Don't forget to visit the other Romantic Writers for their version of this prompt ... click here.

Have an AWESOME weekend everyone.