Sunday, November 15, 2015

Sunday Snippet: Exit Stage Left

Well, I can finally breathe again. I'm truly hoping I'm done with the cold / viral ick / seasonal funk now. Yeesh.

Gotham had a great episode. I loved the end with two potential villains putting their heads together. That combo could lead to some truly good viewing.

The Flash is getting interesting. I have a sneaking suspicion about who Zoom is going to turn out to be, but I'll refrain from speculating for now. My biggest hint is in looking at his garb…

Arrow keeps getting better and better. I like seeing Oliver and Felicity having some conflict. And it's always fun to see Mama Smoak.

Not much to say about the other shows, but Agents of SHIELD is staying twisty and I like that. Unless it gets too hard to tell who is on what side. Then I'll be annoyed.

One final television note. Doctor Who. Yeah. So disappointed. I can't shake the feeling Moffat and company are trying to be too clever and they're sacrificing the emotional component to do so. "Sleep No More" came off as a jumbled mess, in my opinion. Maybe I'm too stupid to 'get' the cleverness. I don't know.

Tonight's post is from Exit Stage Left, a novella where my main characters don't want to mix business with pleasure but can't resist.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Sage Winesboro, the new production director of his local playhouse theater, doesn't always see eye to eye with his current set designer, Georgie Freed. When she proves her worth, but decides to exit stage left, he realizes he's missing out on what could be a great working and personal relationship.

And a snippety peek…

Sage Winesboro pulled into the back lot of the Triple Crown Theater, resident home of the Footlight Troupe. Excitement thrummed under his skin when he exited his vehicle and walked to the rear entrance. A new start with an established company. A new act in the production of his life—this time without internal conflict and drama. No more getting involved with anyone from the group. The fiasco of the last production at his former venue nearly drove him to the brink of madness.
You only had to give it up to Marianne one more time, you moron. Sage shuddered. By closing night, he discovered Marianne had big plans for a long and happy life together, and she didn't take his decision to end their toxic relationship with any kind of grace. Dumbass, she wouldn't have gone out of her way to sabotage the final act, if you'd only let her have your big dick. Sage stopped walking and shook his head. He hated his internal voice sometimes.
"Shut up." And no way.
Regardless of his size, which might be above average but not huge, the breakup with Marianne happened when it needed to. He couldn't let her believe they'd be moving in together after the final curtain fell on the show. One more day, stupid. Twenty-four measly hours. You could've flown to Paris, as planned, for two weeks and let her get the picture when her skinny ass remained in the US.
Sage paused outside the door. "Yeah, yeah. Too bad that's not how things played out." He opened the reinforced metal, happy to find it unlocked.
The lack of other cars had him a little concerned.
Letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior, he looked around for the building super. Instead of trying to find the guy, he waited by the exit, running through the last night of hell and the final act of horrific mayhem. Marianne's deft hand made sure everything that could go wrong did. You could have at least waited to dump her after the encore. But no, you had to do it at intermission. Okay, not his best move. But his acting skills weren't great. He brought out the best in his thespians. He'd reached the limit of his ability when Marianne cut an understudy to shreds over a missed cue. Totally not her job, and completely unnecessary, especially when everyone rolled on without missing a beat or a mark.
Yeah, he'd been pissed about the flubbed delivery, and yeah, he upheld a high standard for the entire crew. But he'd learned a long time ago that tearing into people rarely garnered good results and watching Marianne screech and rave like a lunatic cemented his certainty—about ending their relationship and how deal with simple mistakes.
What about ginormously huge ones made by you?
Sage ignored his internal voice. He'd had enough of it today.
Time to find the super. "Hello!" His voice echoed in the empty hallway.
Taking a step forward, he almost bumped into the man coming out of the stage area.
The super flipped a switch on the wall. "How do. You must be the new big shot the Triple Crown brought in to run the place." The lights flickered to life, revealing a wide smile on the man's face.
The guy couldn't be more than five-two. And with the number of keys jangling from the keeper on his belt, Sage wondered how he hadn't heard the man coming. He shook his head again.
Thrusting his palm out, Sage nodded. "Uh, yeah. Sage Winesboro." Instead of a handshake, he received a set of keys.
The man lifted a hand. "Nice to meet you. Name's Wilbur and I'm hoping we're not gonna have any problems getting along." He started toward the office.
Sage followed. "Why would you think—" He stopped talking.
No doubt his reputation for being a stickler probably preceded his arrival.
Wilbur shot a glance over his shoulder. "I keep my ear to the boards, Mr. Winesboro. I've hear aplenty." He jabbed his finger toward the lock on the wood panel. "Number three will get you inside your new domain. The list for all the others is on the desk." Wilber sidestepped, giving Sage room to move in.
He slid the key into the mechanism and turned the bolt. "Thank you, Wilbur. I won't keep you from you work, but please stop by when you have time and I'll make sure you have a season pass and reserved seats of your choice." Hoping the gesture would dispel any preconceived notions, he entered the large space he'd be calling home for the summer—maybe longer if all went well.
Wilbur ducked his head inside the room. "Well, thank you, Mr. Winesboro. The missus will sure enjoy hearing the news." He paused. "I have a feeling you're not nearly as hard to deal with as rumor suggests." He folded his arms over his chest.
Sage grinned, happy as hell he'd guessed correctly that Wilbur enjoyed theater productions. "Call me Sage, please. And do me a favor… don't let word get out about my soft touch, okay?"
Wilbur snorted out a laugh then winked. "Your secret's safe, Sage. Welcome to the Triple Crown." He pointed to the wall beside the desk. "My numbers are on the contact sheet. If you need anything, give me a buzz." Backing out of the office, Wilbur strolled down the hall, the keys jingling with each step.
Sage laughed. Not a bad start to his new position. And he figured if everyone thought he'd be a hard ass, he'd spend less time whipping them into shape for the new season.
How's that for a ginormous stroke of luck?
For once, his internal voice remained silent.
I'm having a great time writing this one. The internal voices are almost as much fun as the characters. LOL

That's it for this week. Happy reading!


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