Monday, August 3, 2009

Nasty little habits....

From CJ
Tell us about a "criminal" habit you have.

My criminal habit? Well, I have a nasty habit of always being right.

Really, if people just listened to me from the start, they'd save themselves so much pain.

But no one ever does.

Which is why I'm here, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a coke without the rum, watching him dance with a Brittany Spears trailer-slut-clone who thinks the height of fashion is letting the straps of her push-up bra show and wearing hip-hugging jeans so he can twist his fingers in her thong as they undulate.

His friends catch me staring, they laugh from their table. One of them comes up to the bar with an empty pitcher of beer, stands beside me. He eyes me. Hard. Slow. Top to bottom then back up again.

His smile is sloe-gin, seductive, charming. He leans in. His cheek nearly brushes my hair as he breathes in. "What's that perfume?"

"Obsession."

He inhales again. The bartender sets a full pitcher on the bar. Beside us, his buddies are laughing so hard, they're rocking their table.

"Obsession? I think it's what my gramma used to wear." He slaps his hand in the air in a triumphant high-five, grabs the beer and returns to the table.

I hear the word "cougar" between their laughter, ignore it. I only have eyes for him. Their dance is slow, despite the teeth-rattling jungle beat of the music. His palms caress her hips as she grinds against him.

Whore. She isn't good enough for him.

Finally they separate--after a kiss that burns me from the inside out. She makes her way to the restrooms down the back hallway. I follow. Wait in the shadows for her.

Later, after it's done, I meet him outside at my car. His eyes are red with drink, his gait wobbly.

"I can't believe she just walked out on me," he slurs as I help him into the car. He clings to me for a long minute. I pat his hair, hold him tight.

"I'm glad you called. You're in no shape to drive."

"She just left. Didn't even say good-bye." As I pull out of the parking lot, he presses his face against the window, staring back at the bar as if expecting her to miraculously appear.

"I told you she was no good. I told you she was wrong for you."

His sigh fills the car. "I know. You're always right. Thanks for coming to pick me up, Mom."


Oh yeah, guess my REAL criminal habit is lying.....nice to find a job where I get paid to do it.

So tell me, what's the most monstrous lie you've ever gotten away with?

I won't tell anyone, promise.....

Thanks for reading,
CJ

About CJ:
As a pediatric ER doctor, CJ Lyons has lived the life she writes about in her cutting edge suspense novels. Her debut, LIFELINES (Berkley, March 2008), became a National Bestseller and Publishers Weekly proclaimed it a "breathtakingly fast-paced medical thriller."

The second in the series, WARNING SIGNS, was released January, 2009 and the third, URGENT CARE, is due out October, 2009. Contact her at http://www.cjlyons.net



5 comments:

Jen said...

That was hysterical, CJ! I learned long ago that I am a horrible liar and I always get caught smack in the middle of it. No matter how much I practiced, I never seemed to master it...I blame it on the Irish skin - I'm always blushing! ;)

CJ Lyons said...

LOL! Good for you, Jen--at least you know better than to try lying.

I admit, I don't lie very often (in real life--on paper, that's another story) but I'm always amazed (and a bit scared) by how easy it is for me.

I think it comes from when I was young and had a very hard time telling the difference between the "real" world and the story-world I was always making up.

Thanks for sharing!

R.J. Mangahas said...

I wouldn't call it lying per se...being an actor as well a writer, I see it more as uh, playing a role. >;-]

CJ Lyons said...

Hehehe....I like that, RJ!

Funny thing, I never cared for acting or being in the spotlight, but I like how you and Kelli talk about using your method skills to flesh out stories and characters.

Hmmm...maybe I need to check out some acting classes!

Shane Gericke said...

Weeee-ooooo, CJ, I need a cigarette after that. You've got a serious talent in noir writing! Deep, dark and smoky, just like your cougar--meowr! Forget medicine, gimme some more a dat guy-who-done-her-wrong-and-mama's-PiSSed jazz.