Tease Me Thursday #4: Yes He's My Ex

This week, I have another except from my brand new Dreamspinner release, Yes He's My Ex. I hope you enjoy it! And don't forget to check out the other authors, whose links are at the end of my post!

Yes He's My Ex

Experience is a wonderful teacher. It’s taught me that if I want to keep my sanity, I need to keep my front door locked at all times. Otherwise, Sonny thinks he has an open invitation to walk through that door whenever he’s in the neighborhood and so inclined. The hell he will is my attitude. What would happen if I were in the middle of a date or something? Think how embarrassing that would be. Hey, it could happen. It does happen, on rare occasions. I’m not a monk or anything. I have needs too.

He did that once. Walked in on me in the middle of a date. I think the guy’s name was Kevin. Or Brad. I forget. That’s not the point, anyway. There we were, eating dinner. Okay, it was a carryout pizza, but it counts, it’s food. So what if I didn’t do the sweating over the stove thing? I am capable of doing it when I choose.

So we’re set up on the couch, my ultra-comfortable blue couch, the one Sonny and I picked up off the street on bulk trash day. All it really needed was a little TLC—a little upholstering by my mom, and it was good as new. We’re watching some Arnold Schwarzenegger movie—Eraser, I think—chewing on cheesy Italian love food, and having a civilized conversation in between watching people get erased–something Sonny is totally incapable of, by the way. The civilized conversation, I mean, not the erasing. Not that he’s capable of that either. Never mind. At any rate, in waltzes Sonny himself, like he owns the place, carrying a twelve-pack of cold beer and wearing a shit-eating grin. He plops his ass down on my sofa—never mind that the cushions still hold a Sonny-shaped imprint of that delectable derriere—and he helps himself to pizza and asks how we’re doing as he proceeds to dole out the beer.

Suddenly, the movie’s forgotten, and the floodgates have been opened in entirely the wrong direction. I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise—I’ve become the Invisible Man. By the end of the evening, my date leaves—with Sonny. ’Nuff said. See why he drives me crazy? Neither one of us saw or heard from Kevin/Brad again. Small loss.

I hear the rattle of the knob first, then the thump of Sonny clonking his head against the door. He must have expected it to open just because he wanted it to. Serves him right, idiota. I give him a minute to figure it out before I take pity on him and open the door. He’s rubbing his temple, wearing a why-did-that-just-happen look.

“Hey Tim-tim,” he greets me, his momentary frown melting into a sweet smile. Damn that man, anyway.

“Don’t call me that.” My automatic response. He has no beer in his hands today. Or anything else that I can see. “Can you find your way in, or do I need to draw you a map?” I snark, walking away and taking a seat on what is still my sofa. I deliberately stretch my legs out so that I take up the entire space, and my thick white-socked feet are sitting on what was once Sonny’s favorite pillow—the one with the two cherubs on it. Mine too. He can take a chair.

Sometimes Sonny Scrignoli forgets he’s Tim Mansfield’s ex. He waltzes in and out of Tim’s apartment like he still lives there, driving Tim crazy. Is it really so hard to remember they’ve broken up? Then again, maybe Tim should quit having sex with him. 

When Sonny disappears for two weeks, Tim can’t help but be concerned. A strange phone call and a mysterious cry for help leads Tim on a desperate search for his ex.

Sonny’s in big trouble, and it’s Tim to the rescue! He’s the only one who can save his ex from a fate worse than death. Bumbling gangsters, a thick-headed former boyfriend, and secretive FBI agents lead Tim and Sonny on a merry chase full of laughs and quirks.

Now available at Dreamspinner Press!

Tease Me Thursday #2: Yes He's My Ex

Welcome to week 2 of Tease Me Thursday. Today, I'm going to tease you with a little bit from my upcoming Dreamspinner release, Yes He's My Ex. It comes out April 2nd, and it's available for pre-order now.

Sonny is Tim's ex, but you wouldn't necessarily know it. He shows up whenever he wants, walks into Tim's apartment like he owns the place. And he knows how to push Tim's buttons, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it.

Don’t ask me why I did it. Not why I pushed Sonny off the couch—that part I understand. That’s because he’s an insensitive lout who can be totally clueless at times. No, I mean why did I, after heaving him off me as hard as I could, do a complete turnaround and not only help him up but allow him to place his head in my lap, in an utter reversal of our previous position, despite all the alarm bells going off in my own head?

Maybe it was the whimpering. I hate to hear a grown man cry, you know? All right, maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was because deep, deep down inside, I really can’t find it in myself to hurt him, no matter how many times he’s hurt me. I’m just too soft for my own good, and I know it.

“Tim-tim, why are you mad at me?” He’s turning those doe eyes on me, those sweetly sad puppy eyes that make my insides turn into meaningless goo. Like caramel, but less tasty.

“Sonny, when will you get it into your thick head I’m not in love with you anymore? We aren’t together, and it’s time you moved on? Read my lips, Sonny. I… don’t… love… you…. Capisce?”

For a moment, nothing is said between us, as if he’s actually mulling over my words.

“I’ve told you this before,” I add. My voice sounds weak, even to me.

“Tim,” he says at last, his momentary deliberations at an end. “It’s funny how your eyes always look away when you say that.”

Don't forget to be teased by the other incredible authors in our blog hop!

Sexy Snippets #10: Yes He's My Ex

For this week's snippet, I thought I would use something from a WIP which began life as a piece of flash fiction, and which I intend to polish and sub to a publisher. It's called Yes, He's My Ex, and it concerns the exploits of Tim and his ex-boyfriend Sonny - who sometimes forgets he's Tim's ex.

Sonny likes to walk into Tim's apartment like he has a right to, and this is one of those times. Tim doesn't want to make room for Sonny on the sofa,  but Sonny doesn't let that stop him! Enjoy! And don't forget to visit the other authors on the hop here.

Yes, He's My Ex

He simply picks up my legs as if they were breadsticks and slides beneath them. Great. Now I’m half on Sonny’s lap. Not a good place to be. I’m all too aware of his thighs, and I can’t help but picture them naked—with me between them.

Time to change the subject. Or start one rather, before I find myself sliding inside of him and giving into him, no matter what he wants.

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Silver Flash #22: Yes He's My Ex: The Return of Carlo

Happy Wednesday and welcome to another edition of Silver Flash! This week, Ryssa gave us two prompts to work with. Those were: "So what exactly is going on here?" and "Are you ever satisfied?" I worked them both into my continuing saga of Sonny and Tim, called Yes He's My Ex. As you'll recall, last week Sonny and Tim made their way from the basement of the spooky old house behind the Bates Motel, only to be confronted by Carlo the kidnapper and his sidekick. See where that leads today, in the newest chapter of the saga, then stay tuned for the links to my fellow Silver Flashers. Without further ado, I bring you

The Return of Carlo

“Angelo, grab the stiff and let’s go,” Carlo snarls, but when his stooge approaches Sonny, I growl at him.

“Over my dead body!”

“Well, that’s one way of doing it,” Carlo smirks.  For a moment, I’m afraid that Angelo is going to rip Sonny from my arms, but at the last moment, Carlo signs to him to stand aside. “Then you carry him,” he instructs me. “I don’t give a fuck, just as long as we get out of here.”

This is all utterly confusing, and I’m getting damn tired of it. Out of the frying pan, back into the fire. Now we have three doors to choose from—behind one door is the gun-wielding pseudo protection of the FBI and Dale Camel; behind the second door is the unknown person or persons who maneuvered us into the basement of this creepy house; and now door number three has been revealed to contain Carlo the kidnapper and his idiotic sidekick.

Not that I care for any of the choices, but Carlo has a gun and it’s aimed at us, so guess which door we’re forced to choose?

"So what exactly is going on here?"

At the moment, Sonny is just so much dead weight. I heft him over my shoulder. Yeah, he’s heavy, but he’s my burden and no one else’s.

“Simple enough,” Carlo explains, and I refrain from commenting that if he thought of it, it must be, but I show a bit of common sense and hold my tongue. He indicates that we’re to go ahead of him, down a long hallway. Ahead of us, I can see the door, but before we reach it, he directs me to turn into what appears to be the front parlor. An old fashioned room, it is full of furniture that looks like it might have been new when Queen Victoria was a little girl. Old, and dark, with lots of doilies and antimicassars.

And a dead body.

There’s something you don’t see every day.

At least that is what I assume it is. All I can see are the feet, sticking out from behind a chair. But judging by the awkward angle of those feet, I’m going to assume that they’re attached to a dead body. Perhaps that of the owner of the house.

And Carlo telling me it’s simple is still not an explanation. “You and Sonny, on the couch,” he orders me. Sonny’s just coming around, so that helps. I carry him to the couch, and take a seat with him on my lap.

“Tim, where are we?” He looks around him uneasily.  A small spinet sits along one wall. I half expect to see Lurch sitting at the bench, his ham hands pounding out a dirge. Or a dance tune. One never knew with him.

“We’re still in the house,” I inform him.

His eyes grow round when he sees Carlo standing just inside the doorway, gun in hand, then he begins to grin. “Hey, Carlo! What’s up?”

“Hey, Sonny.” He waves Angelo toward the corpse.  “Use the rug.” Next thing we know, the feet have disappeared from view in the middleof a musty floor rug, rolled up tighter than a Cuban cigar.

“What should I do with it?” he asks.

“Toss it in the cellar.” Angelo drags the body out of the room and moments later we hear a thunk thunk thunk as it tumbles down the stairs we just came up.

“Hey, Carlo, we were with Dale, but not anymore,” Sonny confides, “he’s with the FBI now.”

Great, Sonny, got any more information you’d care to divulge? Let’s try and remember that this isn’t the cavalry and we haven’t just been rescued. Not a John Wayne in sight. More likely a John Wayne Gacy.

“I know all that,” Carlo replies. “I haven’t been sitting on my hands since you guys lammed with my meal ticket.”

“He means Dale,” Sonny whispers to me in a confidential aside. I just give him an are-you-kidding look, and he contents himself with nuzzling my neck. I guess it’s better that he not speak right now.

“You guys aren’t all that hard to tail, I hate to tell you. We’ve been wise to your every stupid movement, just waiting our time. Trouble is the Feds got to you first. I was afraid maybe they was gonna throw you in witness protection or something.”

You know what, right about now, that idea is sounding pretty good. I think.

“Lucky for us, those particular Feds you hooked up with ain’t the brightest bulbs in the box.”

Like you are?

“We knew where you was, just been waitin’ for a chance to pick you up. When we noticed you making your escape, I decided to sit back and watch. First I sent your little friends on a wild goose chase. That should keep them out of the way temporarily, but not forever. Then we followed you up to this house and seen you get dumped downstairs. That’s when we, shall we say, performed an intervention on your behalf. The kind that people don’t come back from.”

No resurrection. Good to know.

“So, what’s going to happen with us now?” Yeah, I have to ask, it seems almost like we’re back to square one. Just a different location, and minus one player. Dare I hope this insanity is almost done?

I know, foolish thought.

He grins at me.  "Are you ever satisfied with what you’re told? Always asking for more, you are.”

“I’ll keep on asking til the minute you tell me you’re done with us, and then we’re out of here,” I confess.

“Can we go home, Tim?” Sonny murmurs in my ear. Under other circumstances, I’d be content to just sit here and hold him, and not move for a long time. Under very different circumstances.

“Maybe,” Carlo replies enigmatically. “First you’re gonna help me with something.”

“What?” I have a bad feeling.

“You’re gonna help me get Dale Camel back.”

Peachy.


to be continued - ?


Don't forget to check out the other fantastic Silver Flashers and see what they did with these prompts! Which would be, this week:


Ryssa Edwards   m/m
Lily Sawyer      m/m
Lindsay Klug    m/f
Pender Mackie    m/m
Pia Valeno     m/m


As far as Sonny and Tim are concerned, I've always known that at some point the saga would cease here, and I would continue it offscreen, and publish the results. Yes, I plan to make Yes He's My Ex into a book. And fill if chock full of Sonny and Tim goodness. Show of hands, who likes that idea? Anyone have any ideas for what they might like to see in such a book? I'd love to hear from you!  This doesn't mean, however, that I'll stop participating in the Silver Flash! It simply means that perhaps with the next set of prompts a new saga will be born, and you'll meet more people from my head, people that don't even exist yet! Won't that be fun?


Til next time, take care!


♥  Julie

Welcome to another Wednesday and another edition of the Silver Flasher's weekly flash fiction! In last week's episode, there was some seriously weird stuff going on, now this week continues with Sonny and Tim trapped in the house behind the motel - see what's up with that. The prompt which I used was "The difference is that I lie for a reason!" Then visit the other Silver Flashers for their offerings. Thanks for stopping by, I now give you

The World is a Circle

I open my eyes to a blackness so thick I feel like I’m looking into the eye of a chocolate cupcake. But a moan beside me, and a shooting pain that surges through my body like the most wicked electric current imaginable brings me back to reality, and it all comes rushing back.

The last thing I remember is watching Sonny reach for the bell pull. He yanks on the damn thing while I frantically scream no—to no avail, obviously, as the next thing I know the world opens up beneath our feet and we shoot down, down, down, in what seems like the longest freefall since Alice took a tumble down the rabbit’s hole. And then merciful nothingness, during which time I hallucinate like a mofo – something weird about Frank-N-Furter, Scarlett O’Hara and Laura Palmer. What I imagine a bad acid trip would be like, if I’d ever taken acid.

The truth, as I’m beginning to piece it out, is that we have fallen into the cellar. As my eyes begin to adjust to the dim light, I begin to discern shapes, one of which is Sonny. I pull myself together, and kneel beside him, my hands roaming over his body, trying to assess his condition— vis-à-vis broken bones, blood, or anything else that might require immediate medical attention. I find none of the above, for which I am grateful, as I gingerly fold Sonny into my arms, soothing his tears away.

So now what? Now we gotta get the hell out of here, ‘cause I think we’ve just fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire. I mean seriously, unless the floor of the porch just happened to give way while we were standing there—and I consider that idea highly unlikely—then this was most certainly premeditated on someone’s part. Who, I don’t know as I never saw whoever was on the other side of the door before it was lights out.

I shakily rise to my feet, pulling Sonny with me. We stand there for a moment, clinging together. I am way past tired of this shit, and beginning to wonder if we’ll ever have a normal life again. I’m looking around us, at our environment, calculating the best way out.

 “C’mon, baby,” I whisper. My entire body aches, but I suspect it’s most likely a bunch of bruised muscles and tomorrow I’ll feel even worse. Gives me something to look forward to, right? He whimpers but he doesn’t object. I have my arm around his waist, his head is burrowed into my chest, and I’m doing the leading—as usual.

There’s a lot of furniture in this space, we have to maneuver around it. Most of it seems to have covers on it, as if it’s not seen the light of day for many a year. It smells like an old lady’s underwear drawer. If that isn’t creepy….

We stumble over a few of the smaller pieces, hassocks, I think, and chests. I’m trying to make no noise, but it isn’t easy when it’s the blind leading the blind. Suddenly, Sonny screams, pointing to something ahead of us in the darkness, something with a pointed silhouette. “It’s gonna get me!” he wails, “Don’t let it get me, Tim!”

I attempt to calm him, but he’s shaking like a leaf, so I tell him to stay put and I’ll check it out, but that won’t do either. So now he’s clinging to me even tighter, and I’m dragging him against my leg, as I try to sort this out. It’s got a weird shape, like a sinister multi-handed knife wielding maniac, but on closer inspection it turns out to be a mounted deer head, one with a rather large rack.

Both of us collapse onto a nearby sofa, letting the frights pass away. Sonny is sobbing in my arms, and he’s mumbling something into my bosom, while I stroke his hair. I think it’s the moose that’s got him spooked, but then his words come to my ear, a little bit clearer.

“I’m sorry for all the times I lied to you, and all the times I cheated on you, and all the times I was bad to you, Tim-tim.” Anything else he may be attempting to say gets lost in the tears which threaten to choke him. I pat his back, tell him to please calm down. I can’t decide if his ill-timed confession is disturbing on its own merit, or if the location lends a macabre eeriness to the words I’d rather not hear.

“Shhh, shhh,” I soothe him, “don’t worry about it, it’s all in the past. We have the future now. And we’re going to be together forever.” Okay, maybe I don’t know this for sure, and maybe it’s a lie. But there’s a difference between my lies and someone else’s. The difference is that I lie for a reason. A very good reason. To help keep Sonny sane.

He sobs himself out, as I rock him back and forth, and when he’s done, we venture forth again.

I follow what seems to be a logical path of progression, probably the same way the furniture was left here originally. By this method we find ourselves at the base of a flight of stairs. No way to go but up, so let’s do it to it. Slowly and carefully we make our way up the flimsy-feeling wooden stairs. Every creak of the dry-rotted wood makes me wince, thinking we’re about to be discovered and then what? I shudder to think.

We reach the top without incident and I slowly open the door, into the house itself, half expecting a knife-wielding cross-dresser to bear down on us. Or even a crazed detective. Or a busty embezzler. It’s none of the above.

It’s Carlo the kidnapper and his brainless sidekick.  Good Lord, I think we’ve gone full circle now.

Sonny takes one look at them and faints dead away into my arms.

to be continued

Don't forget to check out the other Silver Flashers, see what they're up to this week!

Pender Mackie

Lindsay Klug

Lily Sawyer

Ryssa Edwards

Heather Lin

Victoria Blisse

Hope to see you next week for another thrilling episode of Yes He's My Ex. Do you have any ideas for Sonny and Tim? Any thoughts or comments? I'd love to hear them!

♥ Julie

Silver Flash #20: Yes He's My Ex: Are They Friendly Spirits

Happy Wednesday and welcome to another edition of the Silver Flash! This week we were presented with some Herculean prompts of twisted proportions. They were:

#1: Cross your genre borderlines.

#2: Become gender fluid.

 #3: Use one of the following:

"You'll never take us alive." (But not in a live & death criminal situation)
"I took a vow of silence when he tries to talk to me." (Doesn't have to be word for word, can be used at the theme of the story)
Drumstick. Guyliner. Big, fluffy cat. (use all three)

I am proud to announce that I used all of the above. As you'll recall from last week, we left Sonny and Tim standing in front of the house on the hill behind the Bates Motel, running from the three FBI agents, when Sonny had just reached for the bell pull and.... And what?

Afterwards, be sure to check out the other brave Silver Flashers for this week who are listed at the end of my blog. I now bring you

Are They Friendly Spirits?

I’m not sure exactly what I expect when Sonny yanks that bell pull, but I’ll tell you what—whatever it was, it is far outstripped by reality.

The door slowly creaks open. I find myself holding my breath, clutching Sonny so tightly that he yelps. I look down to find crescents in the back of his hand. I hastily kiss them, then glance up to behold…

Scarlett O’Hara? What the fuck?

Second glance reveals it’s not actually the long-dead Southern belle, but a woman in a bright hoopskirt of mint julep green, twirling a parasol, flashing me her most genteel smile, even as she exclaims, “Fiddle-dee-dee!”

I’m so struck by this phenomenon that I momentarily lose sight of the seriousness of the situation until I hear a muffled ping. Hopefully they’ve shot one another, but somehow I doubt it. The solution is made simple when the belle opens the door wide and bids us enter. I give Sonny a shove into the house and she shuts the door behind us. I hear the latch.

“Come with me, gentlemen,” she bids us, beckoning with one finger, as we follow her into the interior of the house. “Allow me to show you some of my Southern hospitality.”

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I have visions of her forcing us into some sort of weird threesome as compensation for not revealing our whereabouts. This thought is quickly laid to rest as we traverse a narrow hall. Coming toward us, from the opposite direction, is a portly gentleman dressed in a style reminiscent of the Tudor period. Somewhere about the early 16^th century is my guess. He holds something in one hand which he gnaws upon most vigorously. It isn’t until we draw closer that I recognize it for what it is—a turkey drumstick.

“Now, now, Your Majesty, leave some for the rest of us,” she chides him, gently tapping him with her closed fan. He mumbles something but never stops.

“Tim-tim,” Sonny whispers loudly to me, “Why’s everyone floating? Can I do it too?”

Huh?

I glance at our hostess. For some reason, she is indeed floating several inches above the floor, her feet making no contact with it, acting as if it was the most normal thing ever. Like a … My friend refuses to even think the word.

Sonny has no such qualms. “Are they ghosts?” he asks in a hushed whisper.

I start to tell him there are no such thing as spooks, but the words catch in my throat as a large fluffy cat races by, yowling. All fluff, no feet. What is it running on, the air? As if that isn’t freaky enough, a man bursts from the kitchen immediately afterward. He wears black lingerie, torn black fishnets and high heels, and he has a ton of guyliner on his overly large eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was….

Maybe I don’t know better after all. And he floats too. Are they all ghosts? If so, how can we see them? Have we died and not realized it?

Hot upon the good doctor’s heels is an obviously distraught man, chasing him, tears streaming from his eyes. “Bring back my Laura,” he sobs, “I want my Laura back.” The two men disappear around the corner and up the steps; I wait in vain for the sound of clattering that never comes.

As Scarlett pushes open the door to the kitchen, I overhear someone say, “"You'll never take us alive."

Alarmed I glance into the room to find a number of people grouped about a kitchen table. Alright, saying people is stretching the truth a bit. One is a large white rabbit in a waistcoat who keeps glancing at his fobbed watch; one appears to be made completely of stone—how he manages to move is a mystery to me, he’d make a great gargoyle, though; a knight in shining armor; a ringleted blonde girl with three bears. My mind boggles just to tell it.

Upon the table sits a game. On closer inspection, I recognize it as Candyland. A red-coated soldier draws a card and makes his move, and is forced to retreat half the distance of the board, to his dismay.

And every single one of them is floating off the ground. On a hunch, I reach toward Goldilocks, without foul intent, of course, just as an experiment. My hand passes through her as if I were touching air. Except it’s cold air.

 Scarlett laughs, and pulls Goldilocks into a wet liplock.   Okay, I’ve had enough.  I grab Sonny. We run back the way we came, down the hallway. We bowl right into someone, all three of us taking a tumble. Only Sonny and I hit the floor. It’s Frank-N-Furter. But without the attendance of the crying man.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures us, “it’s all good, you know.” He smirks openly ogling both Sonny and myself. I draw Sonny protectively to me.  “His name is Leland, he’s always going on and on about his daughter  Laura.” He throws up his hands in disgust. “Morning, noon and night. Who killed Laura Palmer? Who killed Laura Palmer? Who fucking cares? Honestly? I took a vow of silence when he tried to talk to me the first time. Drives him crazy. “

He leans toward us, from his perch above the floor, painted lips in a wide smile. “Say, why don’t we three go upstairs and find a little fun?”

What could possibly happen next? I think I’ve seen everything. Until I pull Sunny through a doorway into what is obviously a drawing room. Dim lights, a round table, a crystal ball. Knock three times. A tambourine floats in mid air. A gypsy violin plays. At the table is a man in a straight jacket. Or is that an escape jacket. Aha!

Harry Houdini, obviously. He’s holding a bell pull in his teeth.

Sonny yanks on the bell pull just as I scream.

to be continued...

Don't forget to check out the other intrepid Silver Flashers:

Ryssa Edwards   m/m

Lindsay Klug      m/f

Heather Lin       m/f

Come back next week to find out what happens after Sonny grabs that bell pull! 

What do you think of the series so far? I'd love to hear!

♥ Julie

Silver Flash #19: Yes He's My Ex: The Chase Begins

Happy Wednesday and welcome to another edition of the Silver Flashers! Time for another Flash Fiction! This week we had a real challenge - we were given four prompts to choose from. I used all four: "Failure is not an option." "Are you going to eat that?"  This is like a freaking soap opera." "You have ten seconds . . . " Last week, we left Sonny and Tim racing out the door of the Bates Motel and away from their FBI captors, in the midst of their Great Escape. Where will this week take them? Don't forget to check out the other Silver Flashers whose links are at the end of this post! Without further ado I give you

The Chase Begins

    

“You have ten seconds to return to this room or I’ll shoot,” a voice booms out behind us.  Agent Nelson, naturally. I pull on Sonny sharply.  A bullet whizzes by, it ricochets off their own car. So much for counting, must be a lost art. At least with the FBI. The last thing I hear, as we fly toward the end of the motel rooms, is Dale’s voice.

“Are you going to eat that?”

I maintain a tight hold on Sonny, pulling him along in our headlong flight. For once, he asks no stupid questions, nor does he try to question me as to what we’re doing. What exactly are we doing? That’s a legitimate question. Let’s have a recap, shall we?

Our story begins with the two estranged lovers (although  you couldn’t have told that by Sonny, the way he waltzes in and out of my apartment like he owns the place). Just when it looks like we might be on the verge of making up, Sonny does something stupid—as usual—so I kick him out. While getting over that, I find out Sonny is missing, and his mom’s worried. I can’t ignore that, so I don’t—I know, I have a white knight complex. Of course it’s got nothing to do with the fact  it’s Sonny.  Right. So then I find myself embroiled in this whole Sonny-is-kidnapped thing and that’s where I meet Dale, who  not only appears to be Sonny’s ex , but he’s busy  putting new moves on my Sonny! We manage to escape from Carlo the kidnapper and his half-witted sidekick, only to find ourselves shackled with Dale, who must have a tapeworm, ‘cause he always wants to eat. That’s when the FBI shows up and suddenly we’ve got a whole new set of jailers, and I learn that Dale is Dale Camel of the Camels, owners of the Cameltoe Lounge. In a strange turn of events, Dale stops hitting on Sonny, and latches himself onto FBI Agent Nelson, and we end up stuck at the Bates Motel, playing Charades.

This is like a fucking soap opera. I just wish that I could change the channel, preferably to something saner.

I don’t expect our lead to last long, so we need to figure out something and figure it out damn quick, or we’ll be caught. Or I should say I need to figure it out, as I’m obviously the brains of this outfit. I’m determined that we will not end up back in the hands of the FBI, we are going to succeed in our great escape. Failure is not an option.

When I first conceived of this idea—granted it was rather spur-of-the-moment and off-the-cuff—I’d anticipated running out to the road and flagging down the first passerby we meet to help us. I didn’t take two things into account. One: we’re off the beaten track; the road’s a bit lacking in the passing vehicle department.  So the odds of being picked up before we’re caught are not good. Two: we’re being shot at. Maybe I should have anticipated that, but seriously, we’re all on the same side, aren’t we? At least I always considered myself a loyal American. I didn’t really expect to end up on the wrong end of an FBI gun. We haven’t done anything!

I keep telling myself that, but that doesn’t count for a whole lot when you’re dodging bullets.

So the only way to go is around the motel. Why? Hell if I know, but it feels logical. So we race around behind the long row of dark units. I know this isn’t the solution; if we keep on like this, we’ll just end up running in circles, like a scene from a Keystone Cop comedy—did someone say cue the chase music?—but I don’t think I’m going to laugh.

Thinking quickly on my feet, I scope out the surrounding terrain.  There’s a large hill behind the hotel. The incline doesn’t appear to be too terribly steep. A house sits on the top of a narrow road which winds up the slope from the motel. It could be the owner.  Or it could be entirely unrelated. There are a number of bushes dotting the hill, so I take advantage of that fact to pull Sonny behind a large one. Basically to give myself time to think, and to listen for the sounds of pursuit.

“Can we go home now?” Sonny asks hopefully, curled up against my chest. I hold him to my heart, wishing I could tell him yes, we’re going home, Sonny. If I could,  I’d take him back to my apartment and keep him there for a very long time.

“As soon as possible,” I promise him, stroking his dark hair. I kiss the top of his head softly. The way I see it our best option is to sneak up the hill and see what’s on the other side. And then run for it. Hopefully we’ll find some sort of civilization we can take advantage of—a kind soul with a cell phone we can borrow. Or a car we can catch a ride in. Anything that will lead to us getting the hell out of this place and away from our pursuers.

I won’t even worry about our destination; at the moment that seems to be of minor consideration.

I’m not hearing anything, so I cautiously peep through the branches of the shrub. No sign of the Three Stooges. Wonder where they’ve gone?  I help Sonny to his feet and we zigzag our way up the hill, ducking behind a bush every so often for cover.

We reach the porch of the house. Might as well ask the owner to use his phone, right? I mean, we’re right here, after all.

Sonny points to a cardboard notice affixed to the glass: “Ring bell for service”. Beside it hangs a bell pull.

Before I can cry no, Sonny reaches for it and pulls.

to be continued

Don't forget to check out the rest of the Silver Flashers:

Lindsay Klug   m/f

Heather Lin     m/f

Lily Sawyer    m/m

Ryssa Edwards    m/m

Pender Mackie     m/m

Stay tuned next week for another chapter of Yes He's My Ex! And don't forget to enter my What Would You do For Love contest!

♥ Julie

 

Silver Flash #18: Yes He's My Ex: Movie, Three Words

Another Wednesday, another Silver Flash! This week we were given two prompts again - one was supplied by Pender Mackie, the other by Ryssa Edwards.  The prompts were: "Rise and shine, sleepyhead" and "Do me a favor would you? Dumb it down". As you'll recall from last week, Sonny and Tim were stuck in a room at the Bates Motel with three FBI agents and Dale Camel, and they were playing Charades. Tim had just gotten an idea. Let's see what he does with it. I hope you enjoy this week's offering, and check out the other Silver Flasher's stories; as always they will be listed at the end of my post. Without further ado, I give you

Movie, Three Words

We’re playing charades, it’s my turn, and I think I’ve just had a scathingly brilliant idea.  “Why don’t we pick teams and keep score?” I nonchalantly suggest. “Just for fun, of course. Sound good?”

My idea is met with enthusiasm and cheers from the peanut gallery. I half expect an argument about who’s on whose team, but that flows surprisingly smoothly. Agent Nelson holds out his hand toward Dale, who grabs it. The Olson twins latch on to one another. And Sonny leaps into my arms, winding his legs about me, placing excited kisses all over my face.

Well, that much is settled, anyway.

I put Sonny gently onto his feet and I tell him I’ll take care of his mussed hair, and then I make a show of patting myself down—as if I’m searching for something. “I can’t find my comb.” I pretend to pout for their benefit, to show how distraught my loss truly is. At least to me. “I think it fell out in the car. Can I go look for it?”

Will this work, I wonder?

Nelson is giving me a shifty-eyed look, while I’m just praying that Sonny doesn’t offer me the use of his. Or anyone else’s. Surprisingly, he remains mute. Thank God for small miracles, right? “Okay,” he reluctantly agrees at last—Nelson, not Sonny—but when I hold out my hand for the car key, he grins at me, knowingly.

“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind.” As if to remind me that I’m not free to come and go as I wish. Or maybe he thinks I’m trying to hijack his car. Without Sonny? Not very likely. Seems like this FBI guy has serious trust issues.

“Sure, come along.” I flash him a wide smile. He’s obviously confused by my mixed signals. What did he expect me to do? Break down and confess I was planning to steal his car? Snap my fingers and cry never mind? Well, he’s wrong. Let him wonder.

Damn. Less-than-great minds think alike. Sonny’s gotten it into his head somehow that I’m leaving without him, and he attaches himself to me, gripping me tightly, and sobbing. “No, no, Tim, don’t go.” It takes me a few minutes to pry him off of me and soothe him back into some semblance of calmness. Nelson stands by the door, tossing his car key up and down, playing catch with it. I can hear Dale from the next bed; he’s making kissyface noises at the agent, which I try to block out.

 As for the other two, one’s pulled out his cell phone, the other asks him what he’s doing. “Calling the missus,” he answers, before speaking into the phone. “Hey, rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s your widdle wake-up call from your widdle snookums.”

Jesus.

I kiss Sonny softly, before following Nelson to the car.  I make a show of looking for my comb in the back seat—in actuality it’s in my pocket. He stands guard, leaning against the bumper, playing toss the key again. I emerge triumphantly, comb in hand, and we head back to the room. I lag behind him, pretending to tie my shoelace. I make sure that when I do enter the room, the latch doesn’t quite catch.

Okay, let’s get to it.

I gave the last correct answer, therefore it’s my team’s turn to go. Sonny jumps excitedly up and down. I nuzzle his cheek to get him to quiet down, whispering the name of the movie in his ear, telling him that I’ll need his help on the last word. It so happens that he and I have seen this one together, more than once. That should definitely help.

I have everyone’s full attention now. The twin Johnsons are sitting at the table, which they’ve pulled as far to the side as possible, to give more space in which to play the game. Nelson is sitting on Dale’s bed, with Dale in his lap. I’m grateful for this odd coupling—it’s diverted Dale’s attention from Sonny. And hopefully Nelson’s thinking more with his dick than his brain. At least long enough for this to work.

With no appearance of anxiety, I begin the charade. Movie, three words. This time they manage to get that much.

First word’s easy. I hold my thumb and forefinger very close to one another. The obvious answer is small word. “The” is always easy to guess.

Next word’s harder. There are two ways I can think of to do this, but considering the audience I’m playing to, I’m unsure of which way to go. Oh what the heck, let’s try it.

As I’m about to begin, I hear a hiss and a rather loud stage whisper from Agent Nelson.  "Do me a favor would you? Dumb it down."  His eyes are almost rolling out of their sockets, in Dale’s direction, as if he’s insinuating that I should make it easier for the idiot. Yeah, right. Whatever.

I pull out an imaginary zester and an imaginary lemon and pretend to rub one over the other.

“Laundry?” suggests one of the Johnsons. “Chicken soup?” offers the other.

Makes you wonder sometimes about the level of competency in our federal agencies.

I repeat the motions, but the bulb isn’t coming on, so I change tactics. I spread my arms out wide, encompassing the room, the world, whatever.

“Everything?” Dale says.

“Big? Large?” That from Agent Nelson. At least he’s on the right track.

Sonny is dancing about like he’s gotta pee, from excitement. I can tell he’s dying to give Dale a hint, so I rein him in gently, and whisper to him. He mimics my arm-waving motion perfectly.

“Great!” Agent Nelson nails it.

I nod enthusiastically at the man, while Sonny’s grin grows bigger. I signal for the third word. Two syllables.

Here’s the tricky part.

While they’re trying to figure us out, I grab Sonny, race with him to the door, and we’re outta there!


to be continued




Don't forget to check out the other Silver Flashers!


Ryssa Edwards   m/m
Pender Mackie    m/m
Lily Sawyer      m/m
Victoria Blisse     m/f


Have a fabulous week, stay safe and see you next time!


♥ Julie