Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales a writing to the word prompt black. I am still working on my set of short stories for fall release. This is the last one and I hope to have it done by next week so I can get the volume to my editor. The protagonist in this story is a PR person who is trying to revamp a hotel to get more clientele. She has gone into town for some supplies. One of the hotel workers took her.

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Scott bagged my items and we headed back to the truck.

As soon as we stowed the packages, Miguel said, “I need ice cream. Want some?”

“Why not? It’s been a long time since I treated myself to a cone.”

“It’s my treat today. Come on. You’ll love this place.”

Miguel was right. It was a cute, old-fashioned place that looked like it would have been right at home in a 1950s movie. Scuffed wooden floors with grooves worn in them where people had walked over the years. A long freezer counter with domed lids stretched the width of the store. Just a little gated area for ingress and egress for the employees to get from behind it to the front of the shop. Scattered in the front were several round iron tables with iron chairs for customers to sit and enjoy their ice cream.

We ventured forth to peer into the freezer to choose our poison. There were probably twenty cartons of different choices. One was a dark color. I tapped the glass. “What is that?”

The clerk said, “Black licorice.”

“Ugh, That doesn’t sound good, but it looks like some people like it since some scoops have obviously been dipped out.”

“No sense of adventure?” Miguel asked.

“Absolutely not in that regard.”  I moved down to look at the other choices. So many to contemplate. “Oooh. I don’t know what to pick.” I pointed at a familiar-looking option. “I always loved coffee ice cream as a kid and also this tart looking raspberry. I’m torn.”

“No need to fret. Get a scoop of each.” Miguel ordered rocky road for himself.

While the employee dipped Miguel’s, I said, “But those flavors don’t go together.”

“Eat one scoop at a time and drink water in between.” Miguel laughed. “You need to learn to relax. Thinking up reasons to stress isn’t good. If you like two flavors, get two.” He nodded to the clerk. “Give her both.”

When I received my cone and he’d paid, we walked back to the truck. As I got in, I said, “I can’t stay here long. If I hang out with you too much, I’ll be in trouble. Eating two scoops of ice cream.”

“Won’t hurt once in a while.” He licked his rocky road and inserted the key in the ignition. “Back to the hotel. Hold on.”