Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Wednesday Briefs: Stan and Ollie #10

Happy Wednesday! Christmas is getting closer and closer! Next week, we'll have our Christmas prompts!  Yay! This week, our prompts were inspired by the date - 12-12-12. The prompts were: "the twelfth of never" or use anything with a twelve or use: twinkle, sacrifice, bells or "I'll (fill in the blank) when Hell freezes over" or use an animal in your story or "What did you just say?"

Stan and Ollie continues this week with our two heroes having dinner and getting information. Don't forget to check out the other Briefers and see what's going on with them. Their links follow my tale.  Enjoy!

Stan and Ollie #10

That calls for a double take. Ollie and I rotate in unison, as does just about every head in the place, conversations going into suspended animation, mouths gaping in shock, surprise and plain old fashioned curiosity.  “Isn’t that—?”

“Consuelo’s father.” Ollie finishes my sentence.

Well, I’ll be damned. Not quite what I’d pictured, although to be honest I couldn’t tell you what I’d really expected of the Tulip King. Someone flowery, maybe? Maybe someone a little lighter and airier? I should know better than to make assumptions, though, shouldn’t I?

Bodean Fairchild is a good-sized man, no doubt about that. He looks to be all of six and a half feet in height, barrel-chested in a muscular, outdoorsy way. I suspect this man works out on a regular basis. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who he works out with, even if she appears to be about his daughter’s age. In my experience, that is not a deterrent to a lot of men. He’s well-dressed in dark blue shirt and black trousers, the matching jacket thrown over his arm. Gold cufflinks twinkle on each wrist, and jewelry flashes on both hands.
The hostess materializes and leads Bodean and his guest to a table—so much for getting the next available one for ourselves—and the noise level rises accordingly as everyone pretends they aren’t gawking and carries on as before.

“I can’t believe he’s out with that… that… when Consuelo is still missing.”  The voice comes from behind us, and we turn back to give it our attention. The bartender who’d waited on us stands there, viciously rubbing a glass with a bar towel, his eyes fixed at the couple in question.

Actually, that’s an astute observation. Seems rather carefree for someone whose only child has gone missing. I can tell Ollie agrees; I can read it in his eyes. That flash of indignation, fury, and what the fuck’s wrong with humans look he sometimes get, although he isn’t as quick to express it as I am.  I lay my hand on his and give it a quick squeeze, earning a smile as my reward.

Time to play dumb now. Well, somewhat dumb. There’s a fine line between seeming to know something and knowing nothing. People are usually quicker to fill in the blanks if they think you’ve already got part of the story.
“I heard about his daughter going missing, that must be rough,” I commiserate.

“On everyone,” Ollie quickly chimes in.

The bartender has dark wavy hair, dark eyes, and a gold earring in one ear that gives him an air that’s either piratical, or gypsy. Take your pick.

“Yeah, right. When Hell freezes over,” he mumbles. “Convenient, I call it.”

“I’m not sure I follow?” I encourage him to keep talking. If he polishes that glass any more, he’s going to wear it out.

“Consuelo inherits everything if something happens to Bodean. Everyone knows that. Even if he marries again…”

Now I get it. A young honey with a penchant for bears, someone who can bear new heirs… under those circumstances, Consuelo becomes a sticky fly in the ointment.

“Couldn’t he just rewrite his will?” Ollie asks, sipping at his Shirley Temple. The bartender looks at him, looks at the drink, and then at me, but doesn’t comment. Guess he’s too peeved to care.

“Nope. It’s iron-clad, it’s…” Whatever else it is has to wait, as a patron hollers at him from the end of the bar and he disappears to dispense more alcohol and his own particular brand of good cheer, carrying the glass with him.

“Something to look into, I think. If nothing else, we can find the lawyer that drew up the will, do a little B&E.”

“How will we know which lawyer?” practical Ollie asks.

“How many law firms do you think a town of this size can support?” I shrug. “If we need to, we’ll just find the one that looks like it’s the most expensive and go with that. My gut tells me Bodean doesn’t go cheap. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Maybe,” Ollie agrees. “We should get some information on his girlfriend, too. Or whatever she might be.”


Just then, the hostess returns and smilingly tells us our table awaits, so we grab our drinks and follow her to a small table nowhere near Consuelo’s father, damn the luck. So much for casual eavesdropping. As she sets the menus before us, before she can start her cheery spiel about specials and such, I query, “Is there a good hair salon in town?”

Ollie gives me an enigmatic look, but I don’t enlighten hm. Yet.

“Well, there’s the new place over on Carnegie,” she begins, but I can tell that isn’t the place we want to be.
“I think I’d rather go with someone established. You know, someone that is trustworthy.” I flash her a warm smile to show that I trust her judgment. Flattered, she leans down.

“Well, there’s the place I go,” she admits. “Miss Jane’s place, over on Magnolia. She still cuts hair herself. Everybody goes there.”

“Sounds perfect, thank you.”

“Any time, sugah. Your server will be right with you. Enjoy your meal.” She sashays away, while Ollie gets right to the point.

“What was all that about?”

I pretend to eye him critically, although truth be told, I can find no fault with the way he looks. He’s perfect. But I need an excuse to go there, and I think that he’s a good one. People open up to Ollie; he has a way with them. Even if I didn’t exactly notice that quality when I first met him. Live and learn, they say.

“I think you could use a trim,” I comment laconically.

“But you take care of…” He catches himself and laughs. “You’re right, as always, my dear Stan. Shall I get some highlights while I’m at it?”

“Over my dead body,” I growl.

Damn smart-ass alien.

to be continued

Now visit the other Wednesday Briefers and read their wonderful flash fiction!

Nephylim    m/m
Lily Sawyer     m/m 
MC Houle     m/m
Elyzabeth VaLey      m/f
Michael Mandrake     m/m
Cia Nordwell    m/m
Elizabeth Morgan     m/f

Tali Spencer     m/m
Victoria Adams   m/f

Don't forget to come back for our Christmas flash fiction!  

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie


  1. Little clues in dribs and drabs! This is so much more mystery than I'd expected from the fantastical beginning. :) Not complaining though, I love stories with many things woven in.

  2. And the plot thickens. This is such a delicious mystery I look forward to it every week!

  3. An alien with highlights! That would be interesting. What are they going to discover next week?

    1. The boys are going on a two week hiatus lol Next week, I'll do a one off for Christmas :)