Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Tuesday Tantalizer

So, I am going to go back to the start of my novel- Chasing Manson. I posted the beginning of Chapter Three without realizing that it would make sense for me to start from the very beginning. The novel is focusing on a group of teenage boys, fresh from high school, who take a road trip to meet Charles Manson. So, here goes...hope you enjoy, and if you don't act like you do :)

Part One- Fall 1972

Chapter One- Somebody To Love
I loved the way she smelled. The way she trailed her finger up and down my side when we lay in bed always made me want her more. And I could tell she loved me. I just didn’t know if I was there yet. She pecked my cheek, sat up and turned to me as she pulled my Beatles t-shirt over her head. Our song was “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” As well as stalking Charlie Manson, I peeked in on John every so often. She was standing by her bathroom door in the house she inherited from her grandparents when she said it:
“Jake needs new shoes.”
“The things that people wear on their feet, Blue.”
“I know what shoes are. Didn’t he just get some?”
“He’s a growing boy. He needs new shoes, dig?”
She was becoming impatient and there was nothing I could do. I didn’t have the money to buy Jake new shoes. I also didn’t have the courage to tell her that I didn’t have the money.
“Yeah, I’ll handle it.”
“I knew you would.” She gave me a courteous smile before she walked into her bathroom. I watched her long brown braid as it touched the back of my shirt. She had the perfect body- slim with the right curves. She had the face of model, a small mole accented her top lip, and her dark brown eyes always seemed to look past me.
“Shoes.” I repeated to myself. I swore Jake grew out of shoes faster than the weeds grew in Sandy’s “garden.” I leaned back against the headboard and reflected on the sex. Sometimes I wondered if that was the only reason I stuck around- I mean sex with her was amazing. It was like taking LSD while riding a roller coaster, but that was where the excitement would end. Our conversations consisted of me begging for sex and Sandy asking for money that I never had. She would throw in an “I love you.” And I would smile back and kiss her-hoping that that would save me from having to say “Me too,” or “Thank you.”

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