[Critique Group 1] Marcia's Novwember submission

[Marcia Wick]

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Note:  This chapter will seem out of sequence. I am restructuring my draft
so that instead of having several chapters from Claudia's point of view and
then several chapters from Veronica's point of view, I'm going to alternate
chapter something like this - Claudia, Veronica, Hank, Claudia, Veronica,
Pete, Claudia, Veronica, Michelle, Claudia, Veronica, Mr. K.)

 

Also, for now, I've changed Robbie Braun's name to Hank Braun because
readers were getting tripped up between Veronica "Ronnie" and Robbie.
However, I may not stick with Hank. I researched German surnames that would
go with Braun but Hank was the name of my ex so too close for comfort.
Wonder if you have suggestions? Billy?

 

1273 words

 

 

 

Veronica

 

Why was I killing time in a sleepy town stuck in the middle of nowhere? The
simple answer, I was desperate to escape the paparazzi. No one in Doe Lake
recognized me. As red-headed Veronica Barringer, I bore little resemblance
to my blond bombshell mother whose stage name was Mia Castle. Fortunately, I
took after my absentee father, a man of no importance, in looks and name. 

 

My soap opera star mother had hoped I would pursue a modeling or acting
career like her, but that appealed to me about as much as diving into a hill
of biting ants. In Hollywood, the gossip rags relentlessly hounded her.
Droves of ravenous rats stalked my mom for money or a share of the
spotlight.

 

By the time I was 12, the glamour and glitz of Hollywood had worn thin. I
convinced Mom to send me away to a boarding school in the northeast so I
could escape the fans who wanted to touch anyone in her orbit. And by touch,
I mean literally. I was pinched and patted by the parade of actors, gossip
mongers, and a revolving door of stepfathers who crowded us at every turn.

 

At boarding school, I was welcomed by other girls whose wealthy parents also
under-valued their children. Without loving families, we learned to value
friendship and loyalty instead. At the same time, I discovered a love for
reading which spawned my interest in a writing career. Later, I earned my
communications degree at a remote college for girls in New England. 

 

That tells you a lot of nothing about me, other than I was neglected by both
my parents, leaving me to find my own way as a liberated woman in the 70s
with a college degree in hand. When my advisor pointed me to a job opening
at the Millwood Furniture factory in rural Michigan, it seemed the perfect
opportunity to continue my subterfuge. 

 

I didn't intend to remain in Doe Lake for Long. My trust funds would be
released the next summer when I turned 26, then I planned to hole up in a
New England cabin and write my first novel. Meanwhile, my salary at Millwood
was generous, allowing me to settle into a modern town home on the outskirts
of town. My allowance from Mom was ample, so I indulged myself with a new
Camaro. 

 

I couldn't complain about my situation, other than I was isolated and lonely
without my school friends. I had little to nothing in common with the women
in Doe Lake who were all about marriage and making babies. I was a big city
girl out of water in a small town. I wanted to blend in, to fit in, to
appear invisible, but I stuck out like a sore thumb. It was impossible to
avoid the prying eyes of Doe Lake's nosey locals. 

 

Fortunately, my demanding job provided the perfect distraction. Millwood
Furniture was tucked away in a dead-end town, but its products were
aggressively marketed nationally. I pumped out copy for brochures,
advertisements, and press releases. I traveled frequently for trade shows in
Chicago, Dallas, Manhattan, and L.A. Millwood's high-end hardwood office
products furnished Fortune 500 companies and government entities on a large
scale.

 

I had no intention of complicating my situation by dating. At work, I
declined any and all invitations to go out, using the excuse that business
and pleasure didn't mix. Whether from a big city or small town, men were all
the same. They only wanted to poke and prod the merchandise. For 25 years, I
had successfully evaded the charismatic charms of hot-blooded woman-hunters.
I knew all too well a man's sex appeal didn't guarantee happiness. My own
father was a good looker, but he had disappeared soon after learning my
mother was pregnant. 

 

Unfortunately, fending off the attention of Doe Lake's most intrepid
bachelor, Officer Hank Braun, proved more difficult. The guy was gorgeous,
after all. Unlike a TV star, Hank didn't require make-up or special lighting
to bring out his rugged good looks and sex appeal. He was a walking
billboard for what a woman desires in a man. Best to steer clear of the big
buck, I tried to convince myself.

 

I first met Officer Braun when he answered a call for a motorist assist. I
had locked myself out of my Camaro at work. It was after hours. I had worked
late to prepare for an upcoming trade show. I waved down the patrol car,
blinded by the advancing headlights. My car was easy to spot in the deserted
Millwood parking lot.

 

"Howdy, maam." I flinched at the country courtesy as the officer approached.
"My name is Officer Braun, Hank Braun. Nice ride you've got there. How can I
help?"

 

"I've locked my keys in the car," I explained. "Can you unlock the door?"

 

The cop peered through the driver's door window and said, "Sorry, but my
slim jim won't work. Looks like your car's got those new-fangled power
locks."

 

"Isn't there a new-fangled tool you can use," I asked, cinching the belt of
my rain coat to keep out the night air.

 

"I can call a locksmith, but Charlie's not likely to come out tonight."

 

"What kind of locksmith doesn't come out after hours?" I complained.

 

"The kind with six kids and one on the way," the cop said.

 

"You mean to tell me there's only one locksmith in town?" I pulled up my
collar in exasperation.

 

"One is more than enough," Hank laughed. "Most people don't bother to lock
their doors around here." Officer Braun's amusement put me on the defensive.

 

"Well, I can't spend the night in my office. What am I supposed to do now?" 

 

"I can warm you up in my squad car," the cop suggested. "If I give you a
lift home, maybe you'll invite me in for coffee.then give me your phone
number." 

 

Braun might be the most attractive guy I'd ever met, but I was wary of his
silky-smooth advances. 

 

"I'll give you my address," I said, "but I'll keep my phone number to
myself, thank you."

 

"Aw, don't worry none," Braun grinned. "I just mean to give your number to
Charlie so he can call you in the morning."

 

"Why don't you give me Charlie's number," I countered. "I can call him
tomorrow myself."

 

"Have it your way, Veronica. I can always get your number from Charlie,"
Hank shrugged.

 

"Hey, how do you know my name? I don't think I gave it to the dispatcher
when I called for assistance."

 

"It's a small town," Braun said. "Everyone knows everyone around here -
especially pretty girls from out of town like you."

 

"So, you know my name.you probably have my address already," I chided."

 

"Thought I'd be friendly and ask, but you're right. You live in one of the
new town homes east of town, right? Hop in. It's my job to look out for
helpless women, you know, to maintain public safety and all that."

 

Warning bells were going off in my head. Officer Braun might be handsome,
but he was too familiar for my comfort. I also sensed something about the
man that spelled "danger," although I couldn't quite put my finger on it. 

 

"Never mind," I said, turning back to my office. "I'll ask Millwood's
security guard to drive me home. I'm sure you've got more important things
to do."

 

"You mean pretty boy Pete? I wouldn't encourage the guy if I was you."

 

"I don't intend to encourage any of the guys around here, including you," I
said over my shoulder as I walked away.

 

# # #

 

 

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