WRITE NOW, I'M FINE

 I've head it said that most writers are their own worst critics, and I have to say I definitely fall into that category. It's from this section of All Good Sons that I personally think I let the story get away from me a little bit; allowed myself to get carried away and let the plot descend into madness. Maybe I'm overthinking it, I don't know. Chapter Fourteen I put my phone in my bag and drove to Lulu’s place. She rented a downtown apartment on Wilshire , and I only half expected her to let me in when the doorman buzzed her. I didn’t have another plan. Her decorating scheme was a study in monochrome - everything from the sofas to the light switches was a shade of orange. I put on what I hoped was my warmest smile. She smiled right back. Oblivious. I noticed when she let me in that the TV wasn’t on. ‘I take it you haven’t seen the news?’ ‘I don’t watch a whole lot of TV.’ ‘On the internet?’ ‘Taking a break from it for a while. My P.A. answers all my emails anyway. Hav...

Chapter Twelve Daryl got out of the Dodge just as Joy drove off. She tooted her horn as she passed him. ‘How’d it go?’ ‘Nash was the ringleader. He and the other boys were hurting girls.’ I’ve never seen Daryl’s face turn whiter. ‘Was Grey…?’ ‘Of course not! He turned snitch as soon as he found out about it. They all got to him before he could get to the cops.’ ‘ All ? Including Lulu?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Why?’ ‘She thought Grey was cheating on her.’ ‘Have you talked to her?’ ‘Nash knows more than she does, and if I go anywhere near her I’m likely to bash her head in with her size six pumps.’ Lulu had become a very sought-after fashion model shortly after leaving school, having been discovered by a scout while partying at a night spot on Rodeo. ‘They get the snot kicked out of ‘em and she jets off to Paris for fashion week…doesn’t seem right to me.’ ‘I’ll keep her in my back pocket for now. In a couple of years time, when all this is over and she thinks she’s in the clear, then we’ll sit ourselve...

 Chapter Ten Dillon Bull was as quiet a kid as I’d ever met, but he wasn’t spineless like Tyler. His silence had a weight to it, laden with secrets to which I wasn’t privy and, until recently, didn’t wish to be. He wasn’t a frightening-looking boy – quite handsome, actually, in a doughy sort of way – but if you made it known that you were interested in what went on inside that titanium of skull of his, he would shoot you what I liked to call the Siberian Stare. The first time I found myself on the receiving end of that stare was an isolating experience. The boys were wrestling in the backyard, having just watched the ‘real’ thing on TV and, not being one of those mothers who subscribed to the Everything Is Dangerous theory, I settled down into a chair with a good book and monitored the situation rather than break it up. Dwarfing even the next tallest boy by at least four inches, Dillon was the competitor they saved for last. He was the ring-in, the gladiator who ducked under the ro...

 Chapter Eight My family knew better than to expect me to answer the phone, and I had no friends, so it was with no concerns whatsoever that I picked up the receiver. It was a telemarketer. It had to be a telemarketer. I knew how to handle telemarketers. I was just about to use several choice Anglo-Saxon phrases, but I was beaten to the punch by the most gravel-addled voice I’d heard outside of one of those midnight horror movies Grey and I used to love. ‘You don’t scare me, bitch.’ ‘That’s why you called me at eight a.m. on a Saturday?’ ‘This is a warning. Next time I won’t be so nice.’ The line went dead, and I laughed. This kid was an amateur, even for his age. It made me jump twice as high when the doorbell rang. The poor UPS guy on the other side of the door looked just as terrified as I did. ‘Uh, package for you, Ma’am.’ I signed where I needed to sign, took the package, and shut the door. I threw it on the floor as soon as I got it inside - just because it wasn’t ticking did...

 Here are chapters six and seven of All Good Sons. I've noticed that more people read chapters four and five than the first three so, yeah, spoiler alert, I guess. Chapter Six The answering machine light was flashing. I picked up the package that had been waiting for me, put it on the hall table and stared down at the machine. One. One. One. I debated for a few seconds before pressing the button. ‘Hi, Mom. I guess I missed you again. I sent you a package. Call me and let me know you got it. Bye.’ It occurred to me that the mother-daughter dynamic had gotten screwed up somewhere along the way. Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to be making check-in calls, and fretting, and sending care packages? I looked over at the package, thought about opening it. I went to the fridge, got a beer, and sat down on the sofa to plan. Chapter Seven When embarking upon a journey of discovery, there’s no sense seeking the answers to the biggest questions first. The worthiest trips are taken via the lon...