Saturday, August 18, 2018

That's the Ticket





illustration by Laurie Lail 

By Laurie Lail
Sondra sat at the bar in her running clothes, waiting on her to-go order when her mother texted:
He’s taking me to a fundraiser
where there’s a band so maybe
dancing. Blue pumps for looks
or black flats for comfort?
Sondra texted:
Go with flats
Her mother had always told her, “Don’t make a boy your priority. Now is the time to work on yourself, and don’t let one tell you what to do. You make your decisions. Think about your choices, and do what’s best for you.”
It was understandable to Sondra that her mother had been paranoid about boys. Her mother had been married to a man who left her two years after her mother had worked to pay the bills while he finished college, only a year after Sondra had been born. Sondra’s father had taken care of obligations: a monthly phone call, child support, quick visits on her birthday and on holidays, but he had moved on, remarried, and started a new family. Her mother’s biggest request from Sondra was to never let a man tell her what to do and to be her “own woman.” Now, after all this time, her mother was on date, not the usual once or twice thing either. Her mother had seen this man six times already, a first as far as Sondra could remember.
Sondra waved the bartender over. He smiled and nodded and moved in her direction for her request.
“Can I get an iced tea while I wait?”
“Sure.”
Sondra set her phone on the bar, and surveyed the restaurant. She heard a laugh that sounded familiar and turned toward it. She recognized him right away. It was Ben. They had worked together at a movie theater in high school. He was with a young woman around her age. She quickly turned away, put her head down and pretended to scroll through her phone.
The hostess guided them through the restaurant, and after they passed, Sondra watched as they took their table. She looked Ben over as he smiled at the woman with him. He was a little broader through the chest, and he wore his hair shorter now. Questions swarmed her mind, questions about what she could have done differently, questions she’d asked herself before, but watching him made them swell and become heavy, almost desperate.
Ben glanced in her direction, and Sondra snapped her head back towards her phone, another text from her mother.
U R right. My comfort &
enjoyment come 1st
I don’t need 2 wear heels
or turn heads 2 b
a valuable woman
Sondra smiled. Her mother had become a feminist shortly after her father had left, and she’d been an uncomfortable feminist at first. It’s hard to shake what society teaches you, and her mother hadn’t made the choice to claim feminism from years of frustrations and calculations only, she’d been abruptly pushed into feminism while fighting for her rights during her divorce from Sondra’s father, but she was one nonetheless, and was often questioning conventional expectations of women.
Sondra’s chest filled with a mixture of pride and relief thinking of her mother finally enjoying herself. While raising Sondra, her mother had worked in an accounting office, along with whatever weekend jobs she could scare up, and managed to get an associates degree. Sondra’s childhood had been a loving one, but she’d felt like she’d only had a part-time mom.
Sondra looked back at Ben for a moment. She watched him look over the menu and say something to the young woman that made her laugh. Sondra thought about how she’d met him.
Her mom had been fired from her weekend bar shift for throwing out a regular customer and telling the manager that taking sexist shit from drunken men was not in her job description. Sondra’s mother had sat at the computer looking through want ads and said, “Sondra, you don’t need to give a second thought about people who judge you by your clothes, but if you feel you must have certain things, I suggest you get a job.” Sondra started at the movie theater the next week.
The bartender sat Sondra’s tea in front of her. She took a quick glance in Ben’s direction. He was asking the young woman a question, and then smiled and nodded as she answered him, and Sondra thought about how she’d lost her chance with Ben.
She’d always wished she’d met Ben first, but she’d met Collin first. He’d come into the theater with a couple of his friends, and she’d accepted a date with him. He seemed really nice, and he was kind of witty. He didn’t want a lot of her time. So, he was perfect. She’d be able to focus on herself and not get caught up in anything. She could honestly take him or leave him.
Ben was another story. He’d started working at the theater about six weeks after she’d been working there. He was friendly, curios about everyone, and hilarious.
Sondra and Ben always worked together collecting tickets on Saturday nights and during the Sunday matinées. Ben drove the manager, Mr. Ritter, absolutely nuts with his antics. Ben could do impressions. He cut out the face of Batman from a “Dark Night” movie poster, cut out the eyes and nose, wore it as a mask, and spoke in the deep, raspy, whispering voice of Christian Bale while collecting tickets for the movie. When “Alvin and The Chipmunks” was showing, he grabbed a small bag of popcorn, stuffed his cheeks and spoke in a chipmunk voice as he took tickets from children. The customers love it, but Mr. Ritter did not. He’d told Ben, “Spit that out, and your paying for that popcorn”, but Ben wasn’t deterred when he was written up for it. He had smiled at Sondra and in a dead-on impression of Mr. Ritter had said, “If I loose my job, how will I ever find another with the hefty wage of eight dollars an hour?”
Ben was always vying for Sondra’s attention. She knew he liked her, and she was beginning to like him. She’d worked with him for over a month, and he consistently asked her questions about her opinions and what she wanted, and above all he was genuinely kind. He wouldn’t try to tell her what to do. She’d been sure of it, and had wanted to end it with Collin.
Sondra’s mother had started working as a dispatcher for the police department on Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings, and Collin had offered Sondra rides home from the theater. Sondra remembers the Saturday she was going to call it off with Collin.
She and Ben had been collecting tickets for the matinée, when Mr. Ritter called Ben over. Sondra watched Mr. Ritter speak to Ben with a very serious expression. When Ben returned to help with the tickets, Sondra asked, “What was that about?”
Ben spoke in his best Mr. Ritter impression.  He straightened his spine, pinched the skin between his eyes and made small robotic movements while he’d said, “It seems we have a situation of Ritter-strophic proportions. According to the count, some of our guests are not returning their 3D glasses for cleaning and recycling. I am to form a plan of action to deter these deviants from this vile behavior as they leave the theater.” Ben relaxed into his usual stance, smiled and said, “I also get the job of running them through the washer.”
When “Wrath of The Titans” in 3D was winding down, Mr. Ritter called Ben’s name, motioned at his watch and then pointed towards theater #4. Ben clicked his heels together and saluted, and then nodded for Sondra to join him. As customers began to leave, Ben began calling, “Please, please, drop your 3D glasses in the box, or it may the end 3D viewing as we know it. There will be no fireballs and spears that barely miss you, no Cyclops inches from your face, thunder bolts will loose their thunder. It could kill the movie industries version of mythology. Think of prosperity. For the love of Zeus, please, hurry drop them in the box.”
The customers loved it. Some hurled the glasses at the box and ran from the theater screaming and laughing. This got Mr. Ritter’s attention, and he rounded into theater four, headed straight for Ben, and asked, “What’s going on in here?”
Ben smoothed his employee vest and said, “This people are really into recycling. I think 3D is their passion.”
Mr. Ritter’s anger excelled he popped one hand on his hip and pointed the other at Ben. “I don’t know what you did, but try and remember there are still movies rolling, and we need to keep the noise to a minimum. Do you think you can handle that? And after the glasses are finished, you have garbage duty.”
Sondra had helped Ben with garbage that night, and as always, he’d made it fun. By the time all the theaters had been swept, only Mr. Rotter. Ben, Sondra and Eric, a fellow employee, were left. Ben timed them to see how fast they could get all the garbage out the back door, 20 minutes. Then he spoke in a Scottish accent, and explained the rules for garbage tossing. Each of them got to toss five bags of garbage at the dumpster opening to see who’d get the most in. Sondra made three, Ben made three, and Eric was the winner with four.
They had clocked out and told Mr. Ritter they were leaving, so he could lock the doors behind them. Eric’s dad was waiting on him and waved as they stepped through the front doors of the theater. After Eric and his dad pulled away, Sondra asked, “Is your mom getting you tonight?”
“No. She let me take the car.” He nodded toward the Honda parked at the back of the lot. “I just thought I’d wait with you.”
“Thanks.”
Sondra had looked over the parking lot for Collin, but didn’t see him. How do you tell someone who just gave you a ride that you’re breaking up with him? Well, it’s better than over the phone.
Sondra had laughed as Ben Mockingly began to peel his theater vest off while making a face of disgust. “I got something really sticky on it from the garbage,” he said. He took off his bowtie and wrapped it around the vest. “You do realize were dressed like organ grinder monkeys.”
“Yes, this will not be our proudest job in life. We can only go up from here. I can’t believe how mad Mr. Ritter was. Why do things get him so upset?”
“He’s a family man who works every weekend, you know. He’s not all bad. It is strange that he doesn’t get the connection with movie theater-good time.”
Ben stiffened and made a serious face and did his Mr. Ritter imitation. “Ben, the guest need to conduct their visit to theater with respect and seriousness. I don’t want to see smiles, lightheartedness, and above all, laughter.
Sondra laughed again. “The 3D glass plea you performed was brilliant, by the way.”
“Thank you. You know, if working together is this much fun, maybe we should try hanging out. You know, if we’re here as customers, then technically, Mr. Ritter has to approve of us having fun.”
Sondra laughed again. “True.” She turned and saw Collin pull up to the curb in front of the theater. “That’s my ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sondra got in the car and said, “Hi. Thanks for picking me up.”
Collin didn’t respond. She tried again. “I know it’s late. I hope you didn’t have something else you wanted to do.”
He still said nothing. He pulled from the parking lot onto the main road and took the first right.
“Collin, where are we going?”
He said nothing and pulled the car to the side of the road and put it in park. He turned to her and finally spoke. “So, you really like that little fucker you work with, don’t you?”
“Ben? Yeah, he’s a funny guy. We were just laughing about our boss. ”
“Yeah, I know you were having a laugh. I was watching you, hanging on every word.”
“Collin, I work with the guy.”
Collin grabbed her by the jaw, hard, causing her lips to be pushed forward, and he forced her head against the rest of the car seat. He spoke inches from her face. “You best listen to me. I will not be made a fool of. Do you understand?”
Sondra stared straight ahead, afraid to make eye contact. Her jaws were beginning to ache. She took slow shallow breaths.
Collin said, “I’ve seen you with him before. I not stupid, and you shouldn’t be. If you don’t keep your distance from that guy, I’ll distance him for you. Have you got that, you conniving bitch?”
Collin finally let go, and started the car.
Sondra’s jaws ached. She wanted to rub them but was afraid. Her heart raced. She was afraid to speak. Collin drove fast. She clutched the sides of her seat.
He pulled into the parking lot of her mother’s condo, but not up to the condo, and without looking in her direction said, “Get out.”
Sondra undid her seat belt and opened the door. As she got out of the car, Collin said, “Remember what I said.”
She shut the car door, and he squealed away.
Sondra rubbed her throbbing jaws and began to cry. What happened? Should I tell mom? She’d put herself in the position her mother had warned her about.
Sondra went inside the condo and showered. She looked at her face in the mirror. There was a small bruise under her left ear from Collin’s thumb.
She went to her room and lay down on her bed. She heard her mother come in. Her mother lightly tapped on the door. Sondra answered, “Hey, Mom.”
“Just wanted to let you know I’m home.”
Tell her. Just tell her. “Okay.”
What will she do? She’ll never trust me again.
Her mother cracked the door. “How was work?”
“It was okay. How ‘bout you.”
“Fine. I’m pooped. I’m going to bed.”
“Okay.” I’ll tell her in the morning.
Sondra woke to her phone ringing. It was Collin. She answered it and told him,
“My mom is giving me a ride in.”
“Sondra, I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I went to far. I know I did. Let me talk to you.”
“I don’t think so. We’re over.”
“You know you caused this right? I’ll see you this afternoon. We’re talking this out.”
“No. We’re not. It’s over.”
Sondra hung up. She felt she’d dealt with the situation.
She had told her mom, "I called it off with Collin. I need a ride into work."
Sondra’s mother had asked, “Why’d you break up with him?”
“He tried to boss me around.”
“Yeah. Some men do that, honey.”
That Sunday morning, Sondra had clocked in and went to the lobby. Mr. Ritter was still irritated with Ben and had put him behind the concession stand. Sondra was asked to run the sweeper before they opened. She was sweeping in front of the big glass doors at the entry when she saw Collin drive by slowly, glaring at her. He held up two fingers. He pointed them at his eyes, and then on her. I’m watching you.
Ben had finished his opening duties at the concession stand: checked the soda machines, restocked the candy, and started the popcorn machine. He had grabbed a hand full of garbage bags for the front garbage cans and walked over to Sondra, as she watched Collin circled the parking lot through the glass doors.
“Hey, “ Ben said. “Let’s catch a movie when the shift is over.”
“Not to today. I can’t.”
“Well, how about tomorrow or Tuesday? I haven’t seen “Wrath of The Titans” yet. It’s bound to be visual candy. We should check it out.” Ben tied a garbage bag around his neck as a makeshift cape, stood with his head held up high and his hands on his hips, and said, “The gods are depending on us.”
Sondra saw Collin heading back toward the theater, and she snapped at Ben, “It’s a bad idea. I have a boyfriend, you know?”
“Okay. Sorry.” Ben turned and stuffed a bag in the garbage bend by the door and walked away.
Sondra had collected tickets with a nervous stomach. She kept waiting for Collin to barge through the doors, causing a scene or worse.
She’d wished she’d told her mom.
Sondra was snatched from her memory when the bartender said, “Your order will be ready in another five minutes. Do you want more tea?”
Her throat was dry from her memory. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Sondra glance at Ben again. He and the young woman were looking at something on his phone. She turned away and went back to her memory. When the matinées had started, Sondra had gone to the ladies room and called her mom.
“Hey, honey. I’m not supposed to be on my phone while I’m here.”
“Mom, Collin threatened me last night. I tried to break up with him when he called this morning, and he’s been circling the parking lot. I think he’s waiting for me. I’m scared, Mom.”
“Do not step outside the theater until I get there, and tell the manager what’s going on. Is Collin still there.”
“I don’t know.”
“Have the manager walk with you to check. If he’s there, call the police. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Sondra felt both humiliated and relieved after talking to her mom. She passed the concession stand. Ben was talking to a couple of young women. She heard one say, “I want to see it, but those kind of movies make me nervous.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, there’s violence and loads of action.” He put hid fist to his chest and said, “I will protect you.”
The young woman said. “Okay. I’ll text my address.”
He had a date for “Wrath of the Titans,” and it wasn’t her.
Sondra remembered how low she felt looking through the glass doors with Mr. Ritter, pointing out Collin, and watching Mr. Ritter dial for the police.
Her mother had arrived moments after the police. Sondra had felt nervous and small confronting Collin until her spoke up. In front of Collin, Mr. Ritter, and the police her mother had said to her, “There is never any reason for you to tolerate threats from anyone. Nobody has the right to treat you that way. Tell the police what happened.”
Collin had sneered and cut her mother off. “If you daughter wouldn’t behave like a slut, she wouldn’t get treated that way.”
Her mother had kept her eyes on Sondra. “This is not your fault or your doing. Tell the police what happened, so we can explain to Collin what he is does not control and what he does not have a right to do.”
Sondra had looked at her mother as she spoke. She told everything and showed the bruise on her neck.
Her mother had told the police, “I want him to understand he is not to be seen where she works, at her school, or around our home. I want his parents called, and I want it explained to them.” She looked at Collin. “We could put you in jail for assault this minute. Do you understand?”
Collin had looked defeated. “You should have seen her with that guy, anybody would have been upset.”
Her mother stood tall and met Collin’s eyes as she’d said, “Yes. Life sometimes gives us circumstances that make us upset, but it is never okay to bully, assault, or control the life of another. I do not want to see you near my daughter. Is that clear?”
Collin had said, “I’m done with her.”
Her mother had asked the cops, “When do get the paper work showing the restraining order and that his parents were notified?”
That night when they arrived home, Sondra had began to apologize. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he’d do that, or that he was like that.”
Sondra’s mother had sat with her on the couch and told her, “I want you to listen to me, and to tell every women you know, that there are laws that protect you. That anytime a man threatens you, bullies you, or hurts you, or does anything to you without your permission, it is not acceptable and you do not have to tolerate it. This it is not your fault because there is no excuse for that behavior. You are not obligated to obey, tolerate, or calm anyone. If a man or woman physically hurts you or threatens to hurt you, tell someone who can stop him, who can report it to the police, and help you get any additional help you need. It’s the only way he’ll get help with his problem and the only way you’ll ever be free and safe.” Her mother hugged her. “You did nothing wrong.”
Sondra and her mother were on alert for a while after that. Sondra went to work at a different theater. She never ran into Collin again.
Sondra looked toward Ben. He saw her, and she waved. Ben hopped up and headed in her direction.
When he reached her asked, “Wow, how long has been?”
“High school, I guess. What are you up to?”
“I’m off to graduate school. My cousin and I are checking out cheap apartments. What about you?”
“I’m off to graduate school too. Public policy, UNC Chapel Hill.”
“Oh. My god. Sondra, I’m going to UNC! I’m getting a master’s in social work," he raised his brows, "much to my mom’s disappointment. Where are staying?”
“Not sure. Mom and I are driving down to look tomorrow.”
“We have to get together. I mean, if you want.”
“I’d love it.”
She and Ben gave each other their number. Her food came, and as she paid, Ben said, “I got a job at Hops Burger Bar. Not far from campus. I could get you on if you need a job. We used to make a pretty good team.”
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
As they hugged goodbye, Sondra felt a since of restoration wash over her. It’d be good hanging out with Ben again.
Sondra hauled her order out to her car, and as she buckled her seatbelt, her phone beeped. It was another text from her mom.
He is teaching me
to salsa!
Sondra texted back,
That's gr8
I think I have a 
job in C H 
wake me when u 
get in










Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Don’t Forget to Season It: Romance Stories for People in Their Fifties

          Illustration by Laurie Lail

Written by Laurie Lail

So, I just published a romantic comedy/self discovery novel on amazon called The Power of a Love Song, and the protagonist is in her fifties. This was completely organic because I’m in my fifties.
Now, when I started the manuscript, I was in college and had just turned fifty. I was in writing classes where most of my classmates were significantly younger than myself. Anyway, one day I’m having lunch with a group of young women, and I started talking about the manuscript, and explaining that the “leading lady” was fifty-five. These women had loved my short story about a young woman, who’d become pregnant, her lover wanted no part of it, and she had to figure out what she wanted to do, but as I talked about this story, they began to squint and squirm. Finally, it was brought to my attention, by a well-meaning young woman, that the main characters in romance novels, meaning the two who fall for each other, and more importantly, get it on, are usually no older than thirty-ish.
I explained that though my age choice was not the norm, love stories with people in their fifties have been written before, and they’ve sold. Since I am a woman in her fifties, I felt qualified to speak for my people and say that we are capable of not only enjoying romance and getting it on, but we can still have the fireworks we had at “thirty-ish.”
These young women had seen me in the throws of a hot flash. They had seen me looking for my reading glasses that were perched on my head. They had seen my flip-phone, and worst of all, there mothers were my age. They smiled politely, not buying a word of it.
Before publishing my story, I decided I better research this market. Now, in truth, I haven’t found too many protagonists older than their early forties. Now, of course there are the “looking back” romances where the protagonist is now in her fifties, sometimes even older, but the romantic story takes place in the protagonist’s “youth.”
So, are baby-boomers denying their own romantic capabilities by not demanding stories where fifty-somethings are finding love? Do romance novels were the lovers in there fifties have a place in this market?
As a matter of fact, yes. There is a market, baby-boomers know what they want, and the market is growing. It is called “seasoned romance.” As it turns out, one third of all romance readers are over 45.
Anyone in this age group knows that there are some differences in mature-romance, and so it is with seasoned romance stories. These readers certainly don’t mind sexy scenes thrown in, but they also want something deeper than many romance novels written for the young. There needs to be more of a “side story” with struggles, meaningful moments, and discoveries. Like those of us more experienced with life, stories in seasoned romance novels understand that love does not stand alone; it’s tangled up with beliefs, memories, dreams and conflicts. Its success is part of a journey.
Many books with seasoned protagonists are a part of a series that spell it out for the reader, such as the “Mid-Life Love” series by Whitney G., the “Never Too Late” series by Donna McDonald, the “Silver Night Romance Collection” by Allyson R. Abbott, and the “Late Bloomers” series by Betsy Talbot, but strangely, many of the photos used for some of the covers of these books are of people who look thirty-something tops. I’ll rant about that in another post.
If you are looking for some seasoned romance, here are few titles that might interest you, but there are many more out there, and more to come.

The Unexpected Waltz by Kim Wright
Whiskey and Serendipity by Josie Kirr
This Old Café By Marci Boudreaux
The Good Sister by Maggie Christensen 
Never a Dull Moment by Donna McDonald
Out of the Box Awakening By Jennifer Theriot
When Love Calls by Sharon C. Cooper (One of the few I stumbled across with an African American love story)
Dream Catcher by Maggie Christensen (Native American Protagonist)
Sex and the Widow Miles by Nan Reinhardt
Long walk, Short Pier by Linda Rettstatt

And of course, my book, The Power of a Love Song by Laurie Lail

Thursday, June 14, 2018

The Power of a Love Song



Hello All,
            I really enjoy short stories because when a story pops into my head, short stories allow me to create and complete something with a limited amount of time. I do sometimes need a little instant gratification. However, like reading a good book, or working on an enjoyable project, sometimes getting there is 75% of the fun. So, I also like to write novel length stories.
These stories are sometimes months of work in progress. It becomes something I pull up as a way to entertain myself should I find an hour or more of free time in the morning or evening. This doesn’t happen much, but when it does, I’m usually ready with something to add because even though I have limited time to work on the manuscript, I have plenty of moments to think about what might happen within the story. How many hours a week do I find myself sitting in traffic, waiting on appointments, waiting on a meeting to start—how many hours a week do we all spend waiting.
I think these forced breaks help with the creation of a story. Though I enjoy typing away as the story unfolds itself, I think having to step back and think about the events of the story, the characterizations, the many roads the story could go down, and the time line and placement of the stories information is really helpful at crafting what I want. What I want is a story that entertains, perhaps moves or uplifts, and one that closely resembles actual human interactions—I want it to feel real.
Of course following the creation process comes the work of editing the story. For me, this process can go on forever, and at some point I have say “Enough!” Revision can be both wonderful and grueling. Sometimes I have to kill lines that I carefully molded and really liked, but they didn’t really work in the story. Then there is that paragraph that didn’t flow or move with the story in a way you’d have liked, but with the revision of the paragraph before it, it now becomes easy to tweak and helps the story move on beautifully and naturally. And sometimes in the revision nuances of the story change because they just have to, and it’s both strange that I didn’t notice it while writing the story and a wonderful surprise.
I have recently completed this process with a story called “The Power of a Love Song.” I’m posting the “book blurb” and the link to find the book on amazon. I will be offering the eBook for free for a short period. When I pick the dates, I’ll let y’all know.

Blurb—

Alison Evans, an organized, focused, and in control woman, living in Charlotte North Carolina, is loosing it. Since her husband of almost twenty-eight-years left her for a younger woman, Alison has spent the last two weeks cooped-up in her house, seldom getting out of bed, or answering her phone, or even walking her beloved dog, Monkey. She’s been going over the events of her life, trying to figure out where she went wrong. There’s the failed marriage, the separation agreement her husband is trying to force on her, and her longstanding anger towards her mother. Woven into her life’s history are the memories of the young man she once loved, Brian. They keep elbowing their way into her mind, but the memories of Brian are tangled in the secret she’s kept for her mother, one that has shown up to burn in her chest again. And when her mother calls from Miami to invite everyone to her wedding, only a year after the death of Alison’s father, the anger in Alison begins to boil over.
            Alison’s business partner, Roman, and her oldest friend, Maggie, rally around her to go to Miami and confront her past with her mother, but when Brian, still as handsome and kind as ever, shows up in town on his way to her mother’s wedding, Alison can’t seem to control all of the emotions swimming inside of her. She can’t seem to regain the level-headed behavior she’d come to rely on and has recently been having an occasional meltdown, and even though Brian has shown up at the absolute worst time possible, she can’t stop thinking about his raspy voice, his easy-going demeanor, and wanting to kiss him.
Can her friends get her to Miami in one piece? Can she finally sort out the past with her mother? Can she construct a new life from simple things like understanding, forgiveness, trust, laughter, and the power of a love song?
Sometimes, when your past comes after you, “loosing it” might be the best thing that can happen.






That's the Ticket

illustration by Laurie Lail  By Laurie Lail Sondra sat at the bar in her running clothes, waiting on her to-go order when h...