How I see my female characters

My women are different characters reincarnate through out time starting with Marron. The white hair was something I thought would be an original way to tie them together through each character.  I saw it on the dragon lady on Game of Thrones and loved it!  So I went on a search for my ladies and found them!

Marron
Our fairy princess

Mayson 
my super cutie
Favorite color red
Loves all vintage

Madge
completely emerged in the 70's
"You can never wear too much black eyliner"

Hitting a slow part-

So I have posted some of my work. Only about a quarter of what I have actually written.  The editing and updating is very time consuming.  One of my writer group fellas says to show not tell and I 'm working on that more.
 So many life changes.  I finally got a full time job!  Summer was amazing and I enjoyed it for the first time since moving to Jackson.  Now I am moving to Enterprise OR to care for my mother and grandmother for the winter only (i hope).  I will be seeking therapy to deal with this!  

All these factors have slowed down the process but I am still motivated to get this out in the world. Please send me any feedback.  I love the learning process of the first book. 

You know you work on Bourbon chapter 9

You know you work on Bourbon

“bye babe, have a good night” Mayson gave her new roommate Henry a light kiss goodbye on the cheek before she left her afternoon shift and stepped out to the wall of heat on Bourbon Street.  She was convinced she would never get accustomed to the southern summer.  You simply just stopped being an “outdoor” person.   Your exercise consisted of rushing from AC to AC like a cockroach scuttling from shadow to shadow.  She was sure that if you cut her, the blood would be as thick as molasses and smell like a blend of Rum and Magnolia.  She started down the street and was roughly tapped on the shoulder. She turned ready to punch someone only to see Moses.

“Give me a smoke M?” 

The first time she had seen Moses was on her second night working in the Quarter and she watched him struggle down the street dragging his gouted leg.  He kneeled in front of the bar doors and grabbed a dirty cigarette butt off the street, whipped it off and smoked the few drags with such pleasure lit across his face.  It broke her not yet jaded heart and since then she had collected the best butts out of the bar ashtrays to give to him.  He must have seen her working and waited out here for her to come out.  If he ever tried to come into the bars the managers chased him out with a stick and a holler. 

“I need a smoke Mayson.” 

“Hold on you ungrateful bastard” Mayson smiled at him as she dug into her red backpack and found the old Marlboro pack she stashed his prize in and shook the several cigarettes into his shaking dirty hand. 

“Thanks” and just like that he turned and walked away the tourist crowd giving him a wide berth unwilling to touch the filthy bum.  Well at least he didn’t have to fight the pack.  Mayson put her head into the mass of tourists that moved unbearably slow gawking at street signs or balconies.  They were never sure where to go or when they should get there.  She slipped through the holes in the crowd like a racer not making any eye contact.  She stepped into the Peaches main bar on Conti Street and was immediately soothed by the amazing AC that blasted her face.  She looked around for Alex who should have been done with his shift by now. 

“Over her Mayson.”  Alex yelled and waved from behind the pizza station on the far side of the bar.  The three bored employees behind the counter waved acknowledgment to her as she made her way across the empty space.  It was just a little to early for the big floods of people to send them running to fill drinks. 

“Let’s get out of here I need a drink. Maybe dinner and marg’s at Jaun’s, pool at Half Moon?”  Mayson leaned into the small partition for pizza serving and gave Alex a light kiss of greeting before leaning on the cool clean tile giving him her best big begging eyes.

“I have to work a fucking double the new guy didn’t show.”  Alex spit out flinging his skinny arms up in exasperation and his face started turning red in anger.  His big blue eyes glared at her as he flung things around in the little kitchen.  Our slave driver managers had demanded all of us to do doubles many times.  They would shuffle us between the three Peaches bars to avoid paying us overtime or exceeding any maximum working hours.  You were welcome to complain if you wanted to find a new job.  Your position could supposedly be easily filled by any idiot that walked in begging for a job. 

“What a bummer, I’m sorry Alex.  At least it will be good tips with this convention in town.”

“Yeah true that, get out of here before Nick see’s you he needs more slaves.”  His arms waved me away like he was trying to scare a large cow and I ducked out just as the manager was coming through the office door with that familiar sour expression across his angry face. 

With Henry and Alex at work she was doomed to deal with an empty house.  She had moved in with the guys to avoid just that.  Mayson headed to her second home just two blocks west.  Despite her don’t fuck with me face and posture that she used to get through the crowd the early drunks still hollered.

 “Hey, Hey honey wait” many felt the freedom of Bourbon gave them the right to try to grope and grab her.  She snapped her teeth and growled like an angry dog at them and was able to get off Bourbon without anymore harassment.  She had to jump over a conventioneer that was dressed head to toe with Ohio State pride.  He was sitting on the sidewalk propped against the brick wall.   His mouth wide open a neon green hand grenade cup spilled on his lap. He was snoring, so he was alive.  Mayson banged through the double swinging doors to the dark empty cave of the Three Legged Dog.

“Hey Mayson didn’t expect you today, want a drink?”  Smith started pouring Captain Morgan into a plastic 24 oz iced cup before she could even answer.   He was a tall skinny fella with long limbs and big puppy dog brown eyes.   He was trying to pull of a Tom Selleck mustache this week and it almost worked for him.   They had a nice friendship.  Mayson sensed Smith wanted more but he just wasn’t her type with his soured attitude toward life at the moment.   The bar was empty. It catered to the Quarter service industry primarily and it wouldn’t get busy till about midnight. After that it would be packed until daylight or on a good day noon.  They were one of several 24-7 bars in the Quarter and a favorite of the Peaches crew.  Mayson sat down on the last bar stool closest to the kitchen after putting her bag on a hook on the other side of the bar. 

“Thanks Smith, I was ready for this a few hours ago.” The tall dark haired bartender placed her drink down and sat on his stool opposite her.  “You aren’t getting any overflow from this convention?”  Mayson asked.

“We had a few for lunch, but nothing that wasn’t more of a pain in the ass than was worth having them here.”  Smith flipped through the channels on the TV above their head.  “What do you want to watch?” 

The service industry ending long shifts kept streaming in packs through the door.  Mayson had been sitting on her bar chair for hours, drinking slowly and chatting with Smith. They had eaten dinner and watched a whole movie before the first of the night shift started to show their faces.  When they first walked in it took a few minutes of anger release to co-workers ranting and gossiping. As the minutes and drinks passed you saw the release.  Smith sat next to Mayson now. Aaron had just came on duty and was pouring shots like a card dealer precise, neat and quick.

“Why can’t I be like them?”  Mayson asked staring at a shot girl half naked on top of a table gyrating like a go go dancer.  She was in complete abandon loving the lust in her bouncer boyfriends eyes.   She didn’t hold back, no embarrassment even when he slapped her on the ass.

“Why would you want to be like that?”  Smith leered at the drunk girl rolling his eyes before looking back at the TV. 

A stripper with breast that could never exist in the real world came in.

 “Give me a shot Aaron.”  Her tank top just covered her nipples and was cut off so you could see the curve of the bottom of her breasts.  A few of the men stared, but most had been there done that so her revealing attire went with out comment in this bar.  Aaron had the shot of Jaeger poured and put it on the bar. She wrapped her hand around it her long talon like fingernails making it hard for her to grip and flung the shot down her throat.  She grabbed the nearest male patron and smashed his face between her enormous fake breasts screaming “ahh fucking Bourbon!!”  She left big pink lipstick lips on the top of his bald head. 

“I don’t know Smith it seems like they have let go of inhibition throwing the whole concept away like rubbish.  Without the burden of it they seem so free, guilt free.  I can’t go there.  Maybe I teeter every once in awhile but something holds me back.  I think I could have so much more fun if I could just drop the ‘care’ idea.  Mayson shook her head and sucked down the last of her drink Aaron hearing the slurp had another round in front of her before she finished the last drop. 

Mayson in a normal reality would have been sober and cozy in a bed at 8:00 am.  Instead she was squinting, one eye open on drunk a vision, racing through the CBD with complete abandon laughing like Hunter S. Thompson. Business men going to work already wilting in the heat stared at her crazy grin as they crossed the street when she squealed to a stop at the light. O if she only had a cigar.

She slumped in her car, both hands squeezing the steering wheel.  Convinced this grip would help her to not swerve or weave.  The words to Johnny Lang’s Red Light song started to blare out of her speakers taunting her.  The stop light of life, and she did allow herself to wonder, how fucked up is this? Was she drinking too much?  Did alcoholics ask them selves if they were drinking too much?  Day after day on automatic pilot the months adding up and she had nothing to show for it except an amazing tolerance for alcohol and hours logged behind a bar. What was she missing out on and did she care? Finally the light changed, but would she?

The city, work, the Quarter had turned into a sexy beast pleading her to come closer, and once she had shuffled to it’s beckon it had flashed a toothy drooling grin and devoured her.  Her initial innocent love affair with a beautiful city and what it offered had turned into something akin to continuing to go back for the great sex even though the guy was a total jerk. Could she break off the relationship with the Crescent City her wicked lover?

Six months ago Mayson had been told that her true love was on his way, but every day she woke up alone.  The more time went by the more she worked exhausting hours then drank equal hours.  This schedule made it so she wouldn’t dwell on the fact that she was depending on a fairy tale to make her happy.  Was she really depending on a man to make her happy?  How sad did that sound? Maybe she should go find that damn gypsy and she could narrow down “over the horizon” into a time frame?  She punched her car forward up an empty Magazine Street and pulled next to the curb in front of her new place. 

She had left her loft and moved in with two co-workers to cut the cost of living.  One saving grace to her well being was her need to nurture her friends. It gave her purpose to wake up and she had found two projects in her roommates. 

Mayson adopted Henry first; he was a sensitive soul that leaned towards the macabre. She admired that he loved the written word.  On rare nights off or days he didn’t go out to the bars she would find him reading, and with that one question, “watcha reading?”  They had begun a ritual of sharing a book then later staying up till all hours of the morning pushing each other to fresh thoughts. Then his dad, the English teacher would send another, “new author to watch” and the daily hurry up, or where ya at? would begin until they could enthusiastically flop down in the living room, and the debate would begin again.  After the second time of Mayson bringing up a thought about a book that had haunted her the night before at breakfast, and Henry looking at her with a curious face did she learn to not count on him remembering their intense banter.  He too craved the fade that alcohol brought him and had perfected his method for several more years than her.  She would get disappointed, but who was she to judge he was already beyond the crossroads of choice that she was standing.

She had taken Alex in next, a completely different fish to fry.  She remembered the first time they had worked a shift together. His skinny arms flailed about as his Alabama drawl voice would tell a story. She had never encountered a deep southern spark plug before and she just watched him open mouth.  If he wasn’t sleeping he was moving. She was all about keeping the bar stocked and clean but sometimes it made her tired to watch his ADD perfection.

He had suggested working with a cousin over here to his family. The boy might as well have been kicked out a moving car his parents had been so anxious to finally get him out of the house. He had been robbed once, beaten up twice and Mayson had to drive down to NOPD to bail him out of jail.  He was more innocent to the big bad world than she had been.  She cared for both of them, just two of the many she had bonded with that worked at the Peaches. 

Their neighbor Mr. Vincent sat on the porch they shared as she climbed up the cement steps to her front door.  “Hey Mr. Vincent, how are you today?” He sat on his large wooden chair atop a big blue cushion, sunglasses already on for the bright day.

“O my joints are aching but I’ll get bye.” He rubbed his wrists and cringed as she topped the big flight of stairs. “You just  getting home sugar?”

She heard a low mumble of someone talking to themselves and turned to watch one of the regular bums from the neighborhood stumbling down the street and stop in front of them.  He proceeded to rustle around in the garbage bin. 

“Mike you git now,” Mr. Vincent jumped up and waved his hand at him until he shuffled to the next block. Mayson couldn’t help but chuckle at the harsh realty she witnessed every day and her neighbor shooing it away like an errant cat. 

“The bar was busy this weekend.”  She grabbed her pack off her back and set it down to dig through the pockets and find her house keys. 

“You are going to break with all this work pumpkin.”

Mayson sighed, “Na I’m tuff, and I made great money, gotta pay that rent right?” She had removed half the stuff in her bag to finally find the keys.  She wrapped the key ring on her finger and picked the whole mess up in her arms. 

“Goodnight Mr. Vincent.” He laughed low and deep sitting in the morning sunlight.

 “Yes, good night love, sleep well.”  She made it through the several locks to get into the living room to find the house was still.  Her feet fell heavy up each step to her room.  Henry was snoring loudly when she passed his bedroom door. It was always a relief to know he had made it home.  Her bed felt like a cloud of heaven when she finally flopped back into the center of it. She was exhausted from the too many shifts this week.  Or was it the following work and staying up all night at the bar? Being home in her comfortable bed made her feel less bummed. Despite all the bad things she could analyze about this life she was trying on, the good part was every morning, or better yet every late afternoon she woke up curious to see how this next night might turn out.  She allowed that spin dissolve her many doubts as she immediately fell asleep.

Mayson didn’t need an alarm to get up for her night shifts. Same time pretty much every day lightning cracked over her roof and thunder played like a giant drum out her large bedroom windows. After a few minutes of nature’s symphony rain would burst from the clouds releasing it’s heavy down pour all at once. It would flash flood the streets that never drained. She lay on her bed and listened to the water rush down Magazine. Her body was heavy and tongue thick, but she rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.  The steady tap, tap, tap from Henry’s room was just annoying enough to keep her from dreamland.  Every morning he chopped up his cocaine for the day. He hated getting nose bleeds so would obsess with his razor until he achieved the consistency he liked. 

“Henry enough all ready” she screamed.  Who would have ever thought one year ago that sound would be part of the rise and shine that consisted of her home waking up.  Then Alex started downstairs, everything he touched ended in a noise, clatter or clang the boy couldn’t do quiet. Dishes, really we needed to dishes right now?

 “Dammit” she threw the sheet off her sweaty body.  At some point in the morning she had taken her clothes off and they lay either tangled underneath her or lying on the dirty wood floor This happened a lot and she always worried the house was going to catch on fire and she would end up standing outside in all her glory.  She sighed then jumped out of bed and stomped over to the corner window and blasted the AC unit as high as it would go.  She flung herself back on top of the bed, belly down.  Chop, chop, chop the noise so subtle but just enough to drive her crazy. 

“HENRY Jesus h Christ” she shouted again, she was not a morning person. At work not a soul would doubt her flawless charm and spin on a situation, but her roommates knew the girl sans the fake charm, unfortunate for them.  Dreams were an escape from realty and right now she wanted to blame Henry for depriving her of that.  Another lightning bolt slapped the block and she heard Henry’s door squeak free from its swollen frame.  She was naked with her head resting on her arms, face looking at the door when Henry whispered a knock and shoved his shaved head in her room his tired puffy eyes got a little bigger when he saw her bare flesh. 

 “Hey stop yelling at me, do you want something or you just ranting?” he asked with a just woke up grumble. She lifted her eyelids halfway to catch him ogling her. 

“Honey, you need to get out of my room and just, just be quiet.” She yelled with hostility.  “I can’t deal with the refining process right now.  Can’t you get it pre done for crying out loud?” this came out more like a whine the scream wearing down.  “Fuck you, you can’t hear that” he laughed at her. You always hurt the ones you love and she had gotten into the habit of releasing her bitchiness on Henry.  Mayson could scream, kick and cry in front of him and he just absorbed it without flinching. It was a personality trait she admired in him.

And true to type he ignored her mood “Hey, I’m just finishing Cold Mountain I think you’ll like.  I’ll leave it out for you. Which bar you at tonight?” 

“Suckers with Deacon I think,” Mayson growled, she knew he was prolonging the conversation so he could memorize the view of her bare ass but she was too tired to cover up her backside. 

“I’m stuck at Absinthe on pizza.” “Ok, Henry, whatever go away.”  He closed her door softly.  She gave up on going back to sleep, but still luxuriated in her soft bed.  Tonight she would start a week of babysitting whiskers the devil cat at Smith’s.  No drug factory or tweaky boy, only her, a cat and a full bar downstairs, Umm, goodie.

Life in New Orleans Chapter 8

Life in New Orleans

Deacon and Mayson walked out arm and arm she looked like a child next to the tall dark haired man. They were both all smiles, relishing a few hours of distraction.  They were movie buddies; well Deacon was about the only kind of girlfriend Mayson could handle, a man.  Sure she had some girls she considered sisters but those two were her limit. She had felt a kindred spirit in him from the first time they worked a shift at the bar together and the relationship had grown easily from then. Deacon was binded deeper to her than something that happens in a few months it wasn’t normal but it was right. 

The evening had cleared to a cloudless night, but the stars couldn’t shine through the metro light power.  She missed them. The rain storm that had made them rush inside had passed and cooled the evening down to something almost bearable.

 They were both inspecting the sky just putting one foot in front of the other until Deacon tugged her arm and they veered a little more towards the direction of the car.

“I think we might get an opportunity to get those shots I want.  Should we give it a try?”

Mayson let go of Deacon and swung her red leather pack off her shoulder.  She jammed her arm deep inside the cluttered bag shaking it furiously to locate the jangle of car keys.   Finally she jerked them out with a satisfied grin and stuck the key in the door while checking out the sky once more. 

“For sure let me pop the trunk and you can get your camera set up while I get us to the bridge. If I get nailed by some speeding drunk driver I’m going to get pissed, but hey art is all about taking risks, right?”  She winked at Deacon, absently threw her bag in the backseat and popped the trunk. 

They had chosen the Algiers theater for what Mayson argued was an easier drive than Meterie. It also gave Deacon the opportunity to take a few photos for a painting he had in mind.  She had gotten more confident maneuvering in city traffic and with just a brief look at oncoming traffic she punched the gas getting the little car onto the 10 and made her way towards the Crescent City Bridge.

“There she is, our dirty girl.  It’s not a natural beauty like Mt. McKinley but I love her even more.”  Mayson didn’t allow a lot of emotions to rise lately, easier to keep it all down than manage even the good ones, but seeing the dome and city center lit up just across the river gave her a lump of pride, and joy tried to rise out of the pit. A smile stretched across her face as she put the hazards on and pulled as close to the edge of the bridge as she could. 

“Ok let’s do this, you can stay in here if you’re scared you know? Pop the trunk.”  Deacon put his camera strap around his neck pulling his ponytail of brown hair through the strap with a jerk then stepped out of the car.  The wind slammed the door shut as soon as he let go of it.  Mayson looked through her mirrors at the cars rushing by and finally found an opening in the traffic to squeeze out. She dashed to the other side quickly with a little squeal until she was relatively safe.  Deacon had already set up his tripod and was adjusting lenses.

 “This is going to be great reference, thanks for stopping.” Deacon yelled over the traffic and wind as he leaned over his camera and snapped multiple frames.

“Are you kidding this is great to see the city like this. I’m actually, ‘happy’ to be here.”  Deacon stopped taking photos and looked back at her cocking his head at her strange response.  Mayson leaned on the edge of the bridge and captured the moment. Since she had moved into the city everything from the smells, sounds even the architecture had resonated with her telling her she had come home. For better or worse. The city hugged her in strong arms, and she let her tears soak into mommie dearest bosom. The wind made her long hair whip across her face and she absently took a rubber band off her wrist and knotted it up on top of her head while she admired the dark strong presence of the river that ran beneath them.

“I think I have every possible angle, let’s go drink some wine!”  Deacon carefully wrapped his equipment in clean towels and packed it as gently as a new born baby in the trunk of the car and they waved goodbye to the perfect skyline before taking off for Mayson’s loft.

“We will have to go through the alley again.  The landlord still hasn’t fixed the porch lights so I can see to put the keys in the locks.”  Mayson complained as she went through the small metal street gate and walked into the front yard of her apartment building.  Deacon followed with both arms curled around stuffed brown grocery bags.  Light never blessed the small alley that ran along the side of the house and the moment her sandaled feet slid on the moss covered bricks goose bumps pricked on her bare arms. You could just hear small creatures scurrying deeper into the corners.  The heebie jeebies took over and she fast hopped to the end of the short alley slapping into the back gate.  She had to jump and slid her hand along the top of the wooden slates to find the string that released the inside latch. This was her landlord’s southern solution to a security system.  After several panicked leaps she finally jerked the string and the gate popped open into the back garden. She rushed through like a zombie was just ready to grab her ankle.  Deacon took a more leisurely pace behind her his large heavy black boots making a satisfying crack and squish on a creepy critter as he entered the garden. 

“So much for all gods creatures.” 

Deacon gave his rich relaxed laugh, “Do cockroaches have to count M?” 

“You’ll be eating those words when they take over the world someday Deacon.”  Mayson flipped on the lights and ceiling fan in the loft and left the door open so the cooler evening air could filter through the screen door and freshen the apartment.  Deacon put down his large load on the kitchen table and went about grabbing wine glasses, opener and the white wine out of the bag.  He glided around Mayson in the small space with the ease of someone who visited often.  Deacon gently set down a glass of golden wine in front of Mayson’s cutting board,“here you go Darlin” 

Mayson paused from slicing the variety of cheeses they had bought and grabbed the wine by the stem swirling it around to judge its color and density before taking a small sip and letting it linger in her mouth for moment before swallowing.  “Uhm I like its subtle pear and heavy oak it gives it that taste I think they call buttery.” 

She took another sip, “no major citrus, the wine guy was right I think it will go perfectly with these white cheeses we bought.  I give it a three star, you agree?” 

While Deacon swilled the white around in his mouth Mayson grabbed her whino book and label peeler off the shelf where it sat next to her collection of cookbooks.   The peeler had been a splurge for keeping track of what wines she liked. Growing tired of the randomness she had encountered when she first started a wine drinking pursuit.

“I concur, for a cheaper white it has a rich taste and has the potential to go well with many things. Yes three stars.”  Mayson made a few notes next to the label that she had stuck in the book then placed the book back on the shelf.  They had decided that if they critiqued the wine then wine night had more of a purpose than to just drink large quantities.  Deacon turned up the radio on an old AC/DC tune playing and they both belted out the tune badly making them both break into silly giggles.  Being around Deacon always put her in a better frame of mind.  The stress lines and masks of controlled anger that they had on for work slowly sloughed away and shoulders began to relax movements becoming more liquid.  Mayson’s bare foot slapped on the wooden floor to the beat as they both prepped and piled the variety of sliced fruit, nuts, chocolate and large chunks of warmed baguette onto a large platter. 

“Ok I think we are ready, you get the wine I’ll get the platter.”  The little loft had slowly filled with mismatched furniture that Mayson had either been given or found on the sidewalk waiting to be taken home like a lost puppy.  It was always a smart idea to drive around the Tulane Campus neighborhoods when the year ended.  The rich kids had great stuff that they just didn’t care to take back home with them.  She shuffled with arms loaded with the heavy food platter and placed it on a large tan trunk that honeymooned as a coffee table.  Deacon followed with the several bottles of wine and glasses. They both flopped into the threadbare tan and brown loveseat, Mayson curling her feet underneath her and Deacon lifting his heavy boots onto a lumpy green ottoman with a big sigh. 

“So you seemed to be a little more bummed than usual.  What’s going on with you M?”  No beating around the bush Deacon just point blank asked her.  It didn’t surprise her except she wasn’t sure she could articulate an answer.  She gulped the last of the wine in her glass and used the time it took her to pour some more to think of an answer.  “Do you believe in true love Deacon?” 

He smiled and looked at her with squinted questioning eyes really thinking before answering.  “Sometimes, right now no, but I’ve had my moments of hope I guess.  I love you, but I don’t think that is the kind of love you are talking about.” 

Mayson’s eyes glazed with moisture, it meant so much that he loved her too.  “Yes I suppose what we have is true easy love, but yes I am talking about love that spans the ages, passionate love that stories are written about.  I’ve been pretty consumed by the whole idea really.  Think about it soulmates have been part of our history since the beginning, so that has to have some string of it being true, right?”  She drank more of her wine and popped almonds in her mouth one at a time chewing impatiently.  Deacon just waited for her to go on.  He had the patience of a saint and he reminded her constantly by his actions to not rush through life. She struggled with telling him about the gypsy, but decided that story was to cookoo to share even with him. 

“I have found stories about the ancient Gods & Godesses that played with mortals souls in the heavens.  They would separate souls before allowing them to go to earth.  I have been researching and reading folk tales and I think it has compounded just how very lonely I am.” 

“You have me, you have Henry and Alex. When are you ever really alone?  Hey, I get it being single can suck sometimes. Just get a boyfriend.  I know Smith would love the job.” Deacon jabbed Mayson in jest. 

“Smith is great, but I can’t imagine dating just anyone when he is out there for me. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”  Tears reluctantly came out of her eyes and she swiped at them roughly. 

“Every morning I wake up and the ache is there like a constant bruise. You are supposed to wish and search for the right type of guy not pine for the guy.  I know this isn’t normal, but what can I do?”  Deacon scooted closer and pulled her into his shoulder letting her cry out the pain.