Saturday, December 30, 2017

Have you read Marisol's story yet?

Marisol Vargas is rich and beautiful. And annoyingly overconfident.

Demo Antonopulos is blue collar and ruggedly handsome. And annoyingly craggy and bitter.

These two are about to collide in a very loud, melodramatic fashion. Check out the scene below to see if you might want to read more.....

“You’re gorgeous and confident.” Demo scoffed. “Not to mention conceited, flashy, kinda pretentious, entitled, maybe even a little bratty.” He glanced up at me, and wrinkled his face. “I mean… no offense, or anything.”
            My head jerked backwards. His words stung like a smack. Not because I was insulted, but because I’d been called every single one of those things. More than once. Not that I would admit it to him. “Those are mighty big words for a guy like you.”
            His dark eyes narrowed. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to date you before, and I still don’t now.”
            “Has anybody told you that you’re a dick?” I asked him, my voice shaking.
            “A time or two, yes.” He grit his teeth together. “Has anybody told you that you’re an over-confident little show pony?”
            “You sure didn’t mind cuddling up with the show pony the other night.” I thumped Demo’s chest with my finger. “That is, until your girlfriend showed up.”
            His face was starting to turn red. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
            The office door swung open and the matriarch of Triple D’s appeared in the doorway. “Demetrious Marcos Antonopolous. Are you abusing this young lady?”
            “Abusing? Really?” Demo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, Yiaya.”
            She leaned over so she could see me around Demo’s shoulder. “Hello there, Marisol. How are you?”
            I waved at Yiayia, and my heart tugged. There was something about that old broad that made me want to put on fuzzy PJs and sit down with some cocoa to listen to stories of the days of yore. “Hi, Yiayia. I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”
            “Just great, dear.” She smiled, her wrinkly face scrunching up. “Is my grandson giving you a hard time?”
I looked up at Demo, who’d fixed his gaze on something across the shop. By the disconnected look on his face, he might’ve gone away to his “happy place,” and it only irritated me more. I wanted to cuss him out. I wanted to bring my knee up to collide it with his man parts with a satisfying whack. I wanted to leave Triple D’s in a blaze of melodramatic glory, then ride off in Candace’s minivan…

Oh, crap. Candace was still waiting for me.