Writing
Nadirah Foxx  

FRISKY FRIDAY FLASHY FICTION

Happy New Year! I hope the holidays treated you and your family well.

Recently, I received an invite to my first West Coast book signing. It’s on a small scale close to home. I’m looking forward to it. If you’re around Irwindale in March, be sure to stay posted!

And now for this week’s installment of Love Struck:

LOVE STRUCK

Part Eight

Steve

The woman must have thought I was stupid or crazy. I knew exactly who she was, but the best way to work my plan was to become the greatest actor ever.

The authorities would find some pity on a lovesick fan. Things became more dicey when a perfectly sane person committed a crime. As long as Jocelyn thought I had a screw loose, she’d look for a route to escape. Then I’d have reason to tie her up and go after the real prize—her mother.

Yeah, I was in love, but not the way anyone would imagine. When someone grew up the way I did, you fall in love with revenge. It took a while for me to get there. I believed all the lies printed about El Mercury. Figured she was just another drunk-off-her-ass old rocker.

Then I learned the truth.

El Mercury, aka Ella Landers, was a fraud. She was as believable as a three-dollar bill. Her existence made as much sense as mine.

Jocelyn slinked into the room. Her gaze went from me to the dinner for two set up on the table near the window. “Is this what you wanted? A date?”

“Not even close. Sit.” I pulled out a chair.

Reluctantly, she sat down. “So what’s your end game?”

Ignoring her question, I asked, “Why aren’t you wearing the lingerie?”

“Because I’m not a fool. We’re not having sex again, Steve.”

I grinned as I reached for my glass of white wine. “Who said we ever did?”

Jocelyn’s brow furrowed.

“You assumed we did.” Fucking her wasn’t on my agenda. That would be depraved. I was a lot of things, but I didn’t go there. I wouldn’t go there.

“W-what about the other guy in my room?”

“Just a pal. He needed a place to crash. I told him you wouldn’t mind.” I pointed to her plate of spaghetti. “Eat up. I made the pasta myself.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Not an option. I need you strong. Eat. Drink. This won’t be over until you play along.”

Instead of cooperating, Jocelyn turned into a rebel. She folded her arms and sat back in her seat. “It’s time you were straight with me, Steve. If that’s your name.”

“Ah, you’re too smart, Joss. Here’s the deal. Eat up. Drink your wine like a good girl. When dinner is over, I might just tell you everything.”

She lifted her eyebrow, just like El used to do on stage. “My mother’s going to wonder where I’m at.”

“No, she won’t.” I took care of that little snafu.

“Ronnie expected me at her house.”

“She did.” I picked up my fork and twirled it into the mound of noodles and meat sauce. “I sent her a text while you were in the bathroom.”

Suddenly, Jocelyn’s eyes darted around the room. “On my phone? Where is it?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m looking out for you.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before she reached for her fork. “You won’t get away with this.” She stuck a wad of noodles in her mouth.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I have planned every bit of this. Nobody will question your absence. Remember, you’re the rebellious daughter of El Mercury. You have a reputation for not being reliable.”

Her jaw worked, but she didn’t utter a word.

“Actually, you made this fucking easy. If you’d been a better child—a better human—I wouldn’t have grabbed you. Thanks to your antics, I’ll prove to the world that the progeny of Ella Landers are assholes.” I smiled as I glanced down at my plate. “Well, all of them except one. The perfect child.”

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