Jillian Chantal

Today’s word for the Tuesday Tales gang is greasy. I’m still working on my thriller set in New York. The hero and his partners have captured some men engaged in human trafficking and are trying to get information on any other women in distress.

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Even though I felt like I was running out of time to save my friend’s granddaughter, I had no choice but to accept I wasn’t going to obtain any information until our troops returned and I could get one of them alone. There was just wasn’t enough man power at the moment.

Deciding to leave them guarded by Dawn while I spoke to one of the women who was being held, I called her over. “Can you watch these gorillas while I see if anyone of the women know where Shannon might be or if they know of any other places the girls are hidden?”

“It’d be my pleasure.” She shot an angry glare at the one I thought was the leader. “Maybe I’ll take this guy down a peg or two while I’m here.” She grinned at me. “You know, so as not to waste my time looking after a bunch of sissy-pants, greasy-haired excuses for real men.”

“Watch your mouth, lady, just because you have us tied up doesn’t mean we can’t hurt you,” the one closest to her said.

“Whatcha going to do? Call me names?” Dawn yawned. “I’m already bored.”

Laughing at her as I walked away, I couldn’t help but admire her guts. She was too much like me for my comfort. Hell, she could be me…except in a skirt.

The thought of those long legs in a skirt sent my mind in a direction it had no place going at the moment. Or maybe not at any moment. I had to place her firmly back in the position of a partner, not a woman. It wasn’t fun but it was necessary. For all our safety.

This week is a picture prompt week for the ladies of Tuesday Tales. We’ve each chosen a picture posted by our fearless leader and written under 300 words inspired by that photo. I am back to working on my thriller where the protagonist (a former NYPD officer) is seeking a runaway who he believes may have been kidnapped by a human trafficking ring. We pick up the story where he and his cohorts have found a secluded warehouse where some of the victims are being kept.

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They left the last prisoner for me to handle and I tied his arms and feet. As soon as they were all taken care of, I tried to shake some intel from them. “Is this the only place you have for hiding the women you take?”

“Why should we tell you anything, Cop?” the biggest, meanest looking one asked.

I didn’t want him to know I wasn’t wearing a badge anymore, so I went along with his mistake. “I can see by the tats on your knuckles that you’re very familiar with prison. I’m quite sure you know the first to squeal gets the deal.”

He spat on the concrete floor. “Ain’t nobody in this crew gonna squeal.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Yeah right. We’ve got you tied up all the way to Rikers and back—hell, maybe even a stint in the federal system based on where these ladies may hail from—you and I both know there’ll be a rat somewhere in the mix. May as well be you or one of these other three who get the deal.”

“Forger it man. You got nothing. All these ladies are here voluntary-like. Go on and ask them.”

I knew at this moment, he was probably right. They’d tell me anything they thought these guys wanted them to say but once we got them sobered up and away from here with a chance at freedom, at least one or two of them would talk. Some wouldn’t if this was the only life they had to return to. I wasn’t naïve about that at all.

“Oh, we intend to ask them.” I loomed over him. “Once we get them fed and off the drugs you’ve doped them up on.”

The man didn’t answer. He merely spat on the ground again.

This week the word prompt for Tuesday Tales is pitch. We’re all telling tales using this word. I’m sharing my Christmas sweater story again for the last time since the season will be over next week. It’ll be published sometime in 2018.

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“Fancy seeing you two here,” a male voice said.
Yvette turned to find Nordic Guy and Miguel standing beside them. She laughed and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you stalking me? I promise I don’t have a stash of Harlan Coben books stashed in my car.”
“If you did, then I would definitely be stalking but right now, we’re just interested in a couple of sweaters.” Nordic Guy winked.
He was kind of cute but he so wasn’t her type. “They have quite a few here. We’re going through them now. We’ll let you share if you promise not to take the best ones for yourself.”
Nordic Guy held his right hand up. “I hereby swear to allow—wait, what’s your name?”
“Yvette.”
“Okay. I hereby swear to allow Yvette to have the pick of the litter.”
“The pick of the litter?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a dog person.”
“What about your friend? Will he make the same vow?” Yvette glanced around. Her eyes widened when she saw her friend was practically standing in the same spot as Miguel. Any closer and they would be as connected as Siamese twins. She was grateful they at least weren’t making out in the video tape aisle.
“I somehow don’t think either of them care.”
“That’s an understatement.” Yvette slid another hangar along the rail. “See any you like?”
“I’ve seen some things I like.”
Yvette whipped her head around, wondering what he meant by that comment since it came out kind of suggestive.
His face was bland and gave nothing away. She decided she must have misheard the sultry undertone she thought she heard. He did have that chocolately-smooth voice that would probably sound sexy reading the New York Times stock market column. He could be a pitch man for a cologne commercial with the way he spoke, all deep and sensual.
“Like which ones?” she asked to get the conversation back on an innocent level. At least in her mind.
here was a red one with a big green Christmas tree on it and there was a grey one with a llama wearing earrings and a Santa hat.”
“Oh, I didn’t see it. How did I miss that one?” Yvette thought he had to be making that up since that certainly would’ve stood out in her mind.
He winked. “Sorry, the llama one wasn’t true. But I sure wish it was. That would be cool.”
“You’re no help.” She shook her head. Making up sweater styles. What kind of crazy was he? If she weren’t so focused on impressing Mark, she might think this guy was funny but right now, she needed to find the perfect thing for the party on Saturday.
“You don’t like llamas?”
“It has nothing to do with my feelings for llamas or any other quadrupeds for that matter.” Yvette pushed another three sweaters past her on the rack, losing hope with each one she passed.
“Since you don’t discriminate against quadrupeds, how about this one with the most famous quad of this season?” Nordic Guy shook a navy-blue sweater with Rudolph on  the front. The red nose was covered in shiny pleather fabric.

This week the word prompt for Tuesday Tales is tiny. I’m still sharing the ugly Christmas sweater story.

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As they walked out the door, the blond from Goodwill and the guy he was with that Yvette hadn’t seen at the prior store entered were coming in the door. “Well hello there. We must both be making the rounds of the same stores today,” Nordic said.

“No luck at Goodwill? Did those girls not leave anything suitable?” Yvette asked.

“They didn’t leave anything. They actually scooped up every one of the Christmas sweaters in the place and offered a hundred bucks to buy them all.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it but the manager said okay and off they went with a bundle.”

“That’s the pits but I had to tell you, there’s nothing in here either.”

“There’s that one sweater with a snowman on it,” Maggie said as she smiled up at the other guy who seemed mesmerized with her.

“Will you show it to me?” the mesmerized guy asked Maggie.

“It wouldn’t do any good, I’m afraid.” Maggie glanced down at the guy’s thick, muscular arms. “It’s a lady’s size two. It might fit one of your forearms.”

Nordic Guy laughed. “That would surely be an ugly sweater, Miguel. Your chest out there for all the world to admire your tattoos and this tiny little knitted snowman on your forearm.”

“We have to go.” Yvette thought Nordic Guy was funny teasing his friend but there were sweaters to find.

Maggie darted her a look. Yvette knew it meant she wanted to keep flirting with Miguel but time was racing by. They did not have time for this.

“Looks like we’re going. Good luck on your search,” Maggie said as Yvette strode toward her car.

Once they were buckled into the red Honda Civic, Maggie turned to Yvette. “He was cute. I wanted at least the chance to give him my number but no, you had to practically drag me off. Thanks for nothing, ’Vette.”

“Sorry but I think you’ll find someone interesting at Mark’s party. There’ll be a ton of people there. He’s very popular.” Yvette turned the key and put the car in reverse.

“But I liked that guy.”

“You knew him for like twelve seconds. Gee.”

“We had a connection.” Maggie tossed her hair over her shoulder. “How do you know them? Maybe you can give him my number.”

“I don’t know them at all. I met that tall one in the thriller section of the Goodwill store. First time I ever laid eyes on him.”

Once a month, those of us at Tuesday Tales write to a photo prompt as opposed to a word prompt.  I chose a cozy ornament photo for mine. We are limited to 300 words for the photo weeks.

I’m writing a short story called Ugly Christmas Sweater Quest. It won’t be published this year because there’s no time to edit it but since I was inspired by the season, I am writing it now.  The main character has been invited to a party by a guy she’s been crushing on for a while. She has found her sweater and met a guy who was also looking for one- they helped each other find embellishments to add dimension to their sweaters. He’s cute but she’s focused on her crush and impressing him.

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No one ever said she was beautiful. Heck, not even pretty. It was always that she was the fun one or the witty one, never the gorgeous one. Not that she really wanted to be known by her looks but once in a while, it’d be nice to be told she was lovely.
“Thanks for the compliment.” Yvette glanced down at her watch. “I better go.”
“It was nice shopping with you. I guess I’ll see you around since our friends seem to have hit it off.”
“Sure. Thanks for the help with the pins.” She held them up and headed to the cashier to pay.
He followed and got in line behind her. “I’m really not stalking you, but I can’t steal these fabulous earrings and spectacular hat.”
“Of course not. They’re so valuable, you’d be arrested for a felony.” Yvette handed over the cash for her items and said, “I’ll be seeing you.”
When she got to her car, she tossed the bag inside and headed for the dollar store for some stockings to hang on her fake mantel and candy canes to add flair to the sweater.
Happy with her purchases, Yvette returned to her on campus apartment, smiling when she walked up and saw the ornaments she and Maggie had hung in the windows that morning. They didn’t have room for a tree much larger than a tabletop one, so they tried to get more festive by decorating the one window they had that faced the parking lot of the complex. She sat at the small table in their tiny, one-wall kitchenette and got to work making her sweater stand out. She had to make sure Mark noticed her.
As she sewed the stockings onto the sweater, she thought about the Nordic Guy. She couldn’t believe she didn’t even get his name.