Hey y’all. Is it weird that I crave action in books? I want ash to be happening constantly. If it’s not I legit move on. I think it’s related to my love of action movies. But it makes for interesting writing. Somebody’s always getting hurt, physically or mentally, ‘cuz I gotta keep ish poppin’! Lemme go sit my geeked behind down somewhere. Can you tell I’m trying not to swear? Here’s an unedited snippet where last week’s blog left off. Lemme know what you think!
“Good! I’ll call you later to see where you are. They wanna start soon. Love you!”
Kae stared at the buzzing phone and shook her head. She already knew what was gonna happen. She’d be firm and resolute, he’d rebut. Then she’d whine and complain, and her brother would present every possible benefit. He’d wear her down with pluses while downplaying every minus, and eventually she’d cave. G didn’t come to her with projects very often, but when he did he went in. It was annoying how infrequently she won arguments with him.
Sure enough, not even a full day later a crew arrived at the door with a ton of equipment, tiny cameras and microphones they’d need to install. Granny balked when they started drilling, but a minor exec from the network showed all his teeth and assured her at length that the company would send in a special contractor to restore the house to its original pristine state once they finished.
“There won’t be cameras in your apartment or the downstairs bathroom, Granny,” Kae said.
“I don’t know about this, girl. I’m gonna call G. He may have bitten off more than he can chew with this, and I won’t have them making my baby look bad,” she muttered, striding off to give her grandson what for.
An owl-eyed tech looked nervous as she left, but Kae just rolled her eyes and pulled the covers back over her head. She felt terrible.
Finally the crew left. She slept fitfully all that day and the next, getting up from her bed a whopping three times, twice to go the bathroom and once to shower. Granny brought little plates of food, but Kae couldn’t manage more than a few bites. She was aching so badly even eating was a chore.
The bruises littering her body looked more alarming each day, but she took comfort in their increasing ugliness; apparently that meant they were healing. She couldn’t tell. Her pain didn’t seem to have abated any.
Her phone buzzed. She looked, ready to ignore the call as she had most others. It was G.
“How you feelin’ baby girl?”
“Not too good,” she admitted, rubbing a tear into her pillow.
Her brother sighed. “I’m comin’ out there.”
“No,” she said immediately. “There’s nothing you can do. The bruises need time to heal. Period.”
“You need to take pain medication, little girl.”
Silence. They’d had this discussion before. Kae did not like taking pills, and she damn sure wasn’t taking the strong pain narcotics she’d been prescribed.
“You are not uncle P.”
P was their father’s younger brother, a recovering addict who’d lost his way after an accident where he too was medicated for pain. The story was too similar to hers to ignore.
“I’m not gonna be either. I’d rather just suffer through it.”
“That’s not always smart, Bits. It can make you sicker; chronic pain can actually delay healing, not to mention do strange things to the mind.”
“Don’t say that,” she begged. She was holding on by a thread as it is. “I’ma get offa here, G.” Holding the phone to her head was a chore.
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“HBO wants to send you a doctor,” he tried again.
“No. I’ve seen enough doctors.”
“It can’t hurt,” he reasoned, as though she hadn’t spoken. “They may know someone who can handle pain management. I’ll see what they have to say. Talk soon!”
And he’s gone. She glared at the phone.
“What’s that look for?”
She looked up and smiled for the first time that day. “Billy,” she whispered