As a very quick reminder, Vella is for “episodic fiction.” That means that each individual work will be shorter. Under 5,000 words. There is some speculation that 2,000 to 3,000 words would be ideal. Users will pay per word (in credits) for the stories that they read, and the first three installments will be completely free. After that, the user will buy an installment, and the writer will be paid a percentage of the revenue it generates.

I see a lot of writers thinking about taking an unpublished book and using it for Vella. And that is not a bad idea. Assuming the chapters are of an appropriate length, and there is enough of a hook to push the reader from chapter to chapter, that might work out really well.

There are two issues I see, and the best illustration I can use is the differences between a TV series, a TV mini-series, and a movie.

A novel is much like a movie. There might be some mini-stories, but there is a base story arc, and it is the entirety of the movie. The next thing is that a novel typically has about 75k to 100k words (there are certainly epics that are MUCH longer). Keeping in mind that the first three episodes are free… and that could be 15k words, 15-20% of the book might be free.

A mini-series is somewhat like a movie, but more like an epic novel. It would translate much better to the episodic treatment. The writers have to engage the audience to tune in tomorrow for the next installment. Usually, there is a two hour “intro” to get us hooked on the premise, and invested in the characters (like the three free chapters) and then we have a few nights over a couple of weeks where we invest 10 or 12 hours in the show… much longer than the 2 hour movie. It might be like a 300k to 500k epic. The free 15k word intro is a drop in the bucket.

Then there is the TV show. Every week. Sometimes for a season, other times for a decade.

In a TV show, though, we have several differences. We have the weekly story arc… the episode. We might also have a story that takes the season to unfold. Relationships between the characters may develop over several episodes, or even seasons.

So, we have an overall story arc… like Sam getting home in Quantum Leap. Then, within the episode we have a story arc… like what problem Sam has to solve in order to make the next leap and get closer to home. During the run of the show, there are changes in the relationship between Sam and Al, forming mini-arcs. And the next thing is that each episode teased the next one at the end. We knew where Sam leaped, and the signature line “Oh boy…” told us he had a problem to solve.

I think that the most successful stories on the platform are going to utilize a TV episode model. There will absolutely be stories that will be wildly successful that do not. But the TV episode style could develop into many hundreds of thousands of words, with a miniscule portion of them being “free”. It could go on forever, assuming that the premise is strong. If needed, it could even be divided into seasons, allowing multiple types of story arcs, and making more of it free.

Compared to the 2 hours of a movie, or the 12 hours of a mini-series, the 26 hours run (or more) of a single season of a TV show is huge… and shows that go multiple seasons can produce hundreds of hours of episodes. That would translate into millions of words of the story.

“Listen here, Missy, I don’t know who you think you are, but we are in MY county.  We do things MY way.  I AM the law here.” 

The Sheriff kept his hand resting on the butt of his pistol, menacingly as he glared at Melody.  He had close to a foot in height on her, and an easy hundred pounds.  He kept staring, a smirk on his lips. 

“Sheriff, you don’t want to mess with her.  She’ll drop you to the ground and cuff you with your own cuffs before you even think to call for backup,” Gunny said, still smiling at the baby.

The Sheriff snorted… the glare never leaving his face as he stared down the slender woman.

Melody stared right back up at him.  There was fire in her dark eyes.  Her normally pale skin was red with fury.  She was not one that would be intimidated.  Gunny, standing off to the side, continued to entertain the baby.  Off to Melody’s sides, Ric and Bobby, both in tactical gear again, were standing with their rifles less than casually slung over their shoulders.  They would back Melody if it came to that. 

“I’m gonna take that woman in and book her for attempted murder.  Now, you best get out my way before I come up with half a dozen things to charge you with.  I let you play your little game, out of respect for Wallace Boudry’s parents, but that is over now.”

The Sheriff tried to push past Melody, but she grabbed his gun hand and folded his wrist down and then twisted his arm behind his back.  In her next smooth move, she bumped the back of his knees, driving him to the ground on his stomach.  She swept his cuffs from his belt and cuffed him as he fumed and flailed. 

“Let me tell you how this is gonna go, Sheriff,” Melody said, her sneer coming through her voice loud and clear, “you’re NOT going to charge Lisa Clay Boudry with anything.”

The Sheriff struggled and started to talk.

“Shut up and let me finish,” she replied.  “In fact, she is going to get on our plane and fly away to God knows where.  In the meantime, you can choose to explain what happened to Wallace’s parents.  Wallace has been beating that young woman for months.  She has been admitted to the hospital at least three times for… accidents… that you were supposed to investigate.  And a couple of days ago, Wallace came out here with his hunting rifle, to either kill or seriously injure her.”

“That’s not true,” the Sheriff said, still struggling in his cuffs, ”he was just gonna scare her.”

“So, you knew that a serial abuser was coming out here to illegally use a firearm to commit a crime and you did nothing?” 

“I…”

“In a minute, I’m going to let you out of your cuffs.  You’re going to answer your phone, then you are going to plop your happy ass in your cruiser and drive away.  We are going to collect our medic from the hospital, where I’m told Wallace is in serious but stable condition and expected to recover, and we are going to drive to the airport and fly away. 

“If you choose to charge her, an army of blood sucking ghouls, our lawyers, will descend on this town.  By the time they leave, you… the former Sheriff… will be able to drive by the Lisa Clay Law Enforcement and Public Safety facility in the town square.  Now, Sheriff, do YOU understand how it’s gonna work?” Melody finished. 

She looked over to Bobby, he nodded back, tightening his grip on his rifle.  Melody unsnapped the cuffs from the Sheriff’s wrists, still pinning him down on the ground.  As she held him there, his phone rang. 

Melody let go of him and stood up.  The Sheriff dusted himself off and reached into his pocket for his phone.  He answered it and held it up to his ear.  After saying his name, he just looked around as the voice at the other end talked. 

The Sheriff straightened his uniform and Melody handed him back his cuffs and his key.  He walked back toward his car. 

“You haven’t heard the last of me, Melody Grafton,” he said, as ominously as he could manage.

“Yeah… I have.  You don’t want to take me on.  You aren’t man enough,” Melody shot back. 

She turned and walked over to Lisa. 

“Lisa, you need to come with us.  We’re going to drop you off with a friend.  She’ll get you and your daughter on a new path, ok?”

“I can’t pay you…”

“Dropping that blowhard was enough for me,” Melody replied, smiling. 

“What if he comes after me?”

“You’ll be in a new place with a new name and a new life before long.  He won’t find you unless you go looking for him.  Don’t do that,” Melody said, giving her a hug. 

Gunny, Melody, Lisa and her baby loaded up in one of the Suburbans, while Bobby and Ric loaded into the other.  They headed into town, to the hospital to pick up Patrick, then out to the regional airport to drop off the rentals and fly out.

Three hours later, Lisa and her baby were in a shelter in Atlanta, Melody sitting next to them, Gunny standing nearby.  Instead of tactical gear, he wore a simple pair of jeans and a polo shirt. 

“Hi, Lisa.  Welcome to Maria’s House.  My name is Anna Weber.  You’re safe here.”  She turned to Gunny and Melody, “I’m so glad to see you again,” she said, hugging each of them. 

Melody hugged Lisa, then the baby.  The baby reached for Gunny, wanting him to hold her again.  He took the baby and made a few funny sounds before handing her back to her smiling mother. 

“He’s kind of like a Grizzly Teddy Bear,” Melody said to Lisa with a laugh.  “I trust Anna and you should too.  And if you ask her to call me, day or night, she will.  Ok?”

“Melody, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Have a wonderful life.  Raise that baby.  If you get yourself in a position to help someone else, do it. “

Melody leaned over and hugged her again.  The baby giggled and waved at Gunny as he backed toward the door, laughing and making faces back at the baby.  “Come on ya big toddler,” Melody said, laughing at her husband.

As she got within a couple yards of the front steps, she stopped.  She could see the blinds move a little.  She held her arms out to her sides and slowly turned all the way around.  Her snug fitting jeans and tucked in black t-shirt making her disarmament obvious. 

“I’m not armed, Lisa,” she said loudly enough for the woman inside to hear.  “I’d like to come in and talk with you.”

“Go away!” came the shout from inside. 

“I can’t do that Lisa.  I want to help you… and to do that, I need to talk with you.  Better me than the police”

“Why’zat?” the woman shouted. 

“They are looking to find crimes, Lisa.  I’m looking to prevent them.  Why don’t you let me in.  I’m not here to hurt you.”

The front door cracked open.  Seeing the dark sliver of the inside, Melody slowly walked up the steps and through the front door, holding her hands a little above her waist, keeping them in sight of the woman waiting behind the door.  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.  As she waited, the situation slowly came into focus. 

“Hi Lisa.  My name is Melody.  I want to help you.  Will you let me do that?” she said, finally able to see the other woman. 

“How exactly can you help me?”

“I don’t know yet.  That’s why I wanted to talk with you.  How would you like me to help you?” Melody asked. 

As she looked around, she could see the woman standing in the kitchen doorway with a hunting rifle.  Deeper in the kitchen was a toddler in a highchair scribbling in an activity book for a child that was much older.  To Melody’s right, in the living room, a beaten and bloodied man was tied to a kitchen chair. 

“I just want everyone to go away,” Lisa said, anguish in her voice. 

“I wish I could, Lisa.  Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Lisa was leaning against the doorway, her fatigue evident.  She kept taking her hand off the rifle to wipe her eyes. 

“He was beatin’ me and beatin’ my baby, so I left him.  The bastard came back ta get my baby, and I told him ta go ta hell,” Lisa said.  “I didn’t mean for all this.  I just don’t want him beatin’ my baby.”

“I understand.  But Lisa… it looks like Wallace is hurt pretty bad.  Can we let a medic look at him?”

“I can’t do that, Melody,” Lisa said, sniffling. 

“Lisa, I really want to help you.  And I will.  But if Wallace dies, your little baby won’t have any parents.  He’ll be dead, and you’ll be in jail.  I can try to protect you and see if there is a way to work this out… but if he’s dead, my hands will be tied.  You understand?”

Lisa stared at her for a minute. 

“Why are you here, Melody?”

“I told you… to help you.”

“Who hired you… you said you weren’t a cop.”

“Nobody is paying me, Lisa,” Melody said calmly.  “Wallace’s parents called a friend of mine yesterday when he didn’t come home.  They were worried.  I came to get him… but now that I know about your baby, keeping her safe is the most important thing for me.  More important than Wallace or you, do you understand me, Lisa?”

“Why… why is my baby important?”

“I help people… people that are in trouble.  Especially kids.  Please let me help you and your baby.  Let me get a medic to help Wallace.”

She reluctantly nodded.  Melody slowly backed to the door.  She turned and opened it.  She motioned for Patrick to come to the door.  He already knew from listening to Melody’s comm unit, so he’d stripped off his body armor and weapons. 

With just a small medic kit he walked over to the steps and came up to the door. 

“Hi Lisa.  My name is Patrick and I’m here to help Wallace, ok?  Can I come it to look at him?”

“You have a gun?” Lisa asked. 

“No, but I have a pocketknife in case I have to cut his clothes, see?” he said, holding it in his hand. 

She nodded and Patrick walked inside.  He moved toward Wallace as his eyes adjusted, then gently cut the bonds holding the man to the chair.  He pulled him from the chair and laid him on the dirty floor of the trailer.  He cut away his shirt to look at the gunshot wound in Wallace’s chest. 

“One, his pulse is weak and thready.  He’s lost a lot of blood.  I can slow it down, but he’s gonna need emergency transport and IV fluids,” Patrick said into his radio. 

“Lisa,” Melody said, “it doesn’t look good for Wallace.  We need to get him in an ambulance and to a hospital.  Patrick is talking to our people outside.  Can we take him out there so that we can get him to a hospital?  I’ll stay with you as a hostage if you want.”

Lisa was looking around… at her baby, at her husband, at Melody, then back again. 

“I didn’t want ta kill anyone,” she said after a few minutes.  “Don’t let him die.”

Lisa collapsed to the floor, sobbing into her hands, the rifle clattering to the kitchen floor. 

“Gunny, get a stretcher up here to help Patrick get Wallace out.  No guns,” Melody said into her comms. 

Ric and Bobby came around the shed a moment later, their tactical gear stripped off.  Ric was carrying the stretcher and was first to the door.  He ignored Lisa and the gun and turned toward Patrick and the man he was on the floor with.  Bobby slid around near the unconscious man’s head, while Ric was at his feet.  They slid him over onto the stretcher and gently carried him outside. 

As Melody held Lisa, who was crying uncontrollably, an ambulance pulled up without its siren on.  A moment later, again with no siren, it quickly pulled away. 

“Lisa, why don’t you tell me what happened?” Melody said as she walked over to where the other woman was leaned against the wall. 

She slid the gun away from her and sat down next to her.  Lisa started pouring out everything that had happened to get her to where she was.  They spent a few minutes talking back and forth, Melody asking questions, Lisa answering. 

“Is Wallace gonna die?  Did I kill him?” Lisa said through her tears.

“Lisa, Patrick is the best.  He’s with Wallace and I’ll know everything that happens, ok?  Can we go outside now?” Melody said calmly. 

“Are you gonna arrest me now?” Lisa asked. 

“I told you, I’m not the police.  Do you want to carry your baby out, or me?”

“I’ll carry her,” Lisa said, sniffling again. 

The woman walked over and gently picked her baby girl up from the highchair.  She hugged her tight as she carried her outside, walking behind Melody.  Lisa looked around when she got outside, wondering where the police cars were.  When she didn’t see any, she gave Melody a confused look. 

“Lisa,” Melody said softly as she approached the woman again, “I need to get a look at you… to confirm what you said inside.  Can my husband hold your baby?” She pointed to the big man with the burly red beard. 

“I… I guess,” Lisa replied, unease in her voice.

“Lisa, we’re not going to take your little girl away.  His name is Will, but everyone calls him Gunny.  He’ll keep your baby safe.  Trust me.”

Lisa handed her baby over to Gunny.  He started bouncing the little girl and had her laughing and squealing before Lisa and Melody could walk away.  Melody led Lisa around to the side of the shed, away from the guys on the team and asked her to lift her shirt.  Lisa complied, showing her to scrapes, scars and bruises she had all over. 

As they came back around the Sheriff’s car came rolling up to the fence around the mobile home’s yard.  The Sheriff stepped from his car, a tall man made even taller by the Stetson he set on top of his head as he cleared the car.  He rested his hand on his sidearm and made his way toward Gunny, who was bouncing the baby. 

“I’ll take over from here,” the Sheriff said, reaching for the baby.

“Colt, there’s traffic ahead,” Callie said nervously, her head swiveling between looking back for the cars that were chasing them and looking ahead at the road.  “Can we outrun them?”

“Not like this.  We can almost go faster than the chopper, but anything slowing us down means they’ll catch up.  And at this speed, even without traffic, we’ll be out of gas before they are out of sight.  Grab that little bag between the seats,” he directed her. 

She reached back and picked up a small pack that was between the front and back seats.  She unzipped it and pulled out the radio inside.  Colt told her to snap open the cover on the back and he slipped the earpiece in his ear.  She tapped the radio icon on his phone. 

“This is control.  What’s going on, Colt?” came the reply from a female voice a moment later through both the phone speaker and the earpiece. 

“We are on I-70 in central Kansas, past Salina, being chased by air and ground units,” he replied. 

“Is it local law enforcement?” 

“Negative,” Colt replied.  “A ground unit started by tapping me in the tail.”

“Confirmed,” the woman said.  “There is no radio traffic from Kansas State Police or local departments in that area about a high-speed chase.  Can you evade?”

“Not for long,” Colt said as the car whizzed past several vehicles in the right lane.  “Fuel will only hold out for twenty minutes, tops.  That’s if we don’t get slowed by traffic.  I am faster, but not fast enough to get out of his sight.”

“Roger that, Colt.  Notifying Mustang and seeing if we have any assets in the area.”

Callie looked over at her boyfriend.  She watched him concentrate on the road.  Every bump and uneven spot put the car on edge.  He and his father had modified the car to be able to run fast, and it had been on the track, but in the end, it was never designed to go flat out for miles and miles.  One wrong move could kill them.

“I believe in you, Colt,” Callie said. 

“I’ll do my best to be worthy of your trust, Callie.  I love you,” he replied. 

“Two hours is the best I can do, Colt.  That is for an intercept team.  They will be in the air in five minutes.”

“Let me see if we can shake them,” Colt replied.  “We’ll try to plan for an exfil closer to the Colorado state line.”

Copy that.  I’ll send them that way.”

“What are you planning, Colt?” Callie asked. 

“We need a big truck stop.  See any billboards?”

There was a big truck stop coming up in a couple of miles.  As they approached, Colt jumped on the brakes, hauling the car down to a reasonable speed.  The helicopter swooped over them as he made the turn into the truck stop, pulling into a parking space. 

“We have about two minutes to find a ride out of here before their goons show up,” Colt said, tossing her a hat and jacket, while he picked up one for himself. 

He led her up to the cash register and paid for everything, then turned and watched for a minute. 

“Hey, Steve,” he said to a large trucker that was getting ready to walk out to his truck.  “My girlfriend and I are in a jam.  Can you give us a ride to the Colorado line?  I’ll give you five hundred bucks.” 

“Cops after you?” 

“No… bad people.  Come on… five hundred, cash.”

“How’d you know my name?” 

“It’s on your shirt…  Come on, Steve.  It’ll be worth your while.” 

The chopper swooped low around the diesel side of the truck stop, swinging around for another pass. 

“I’m in the red Kenworth.”

Colt watched the helicopter disappear for a moment behind the building, then smacked Callie on the butt and followed her out to the truck.  They climbed up into the cab, closing the door barely before the helicopter came back in view.  Steve climbed in the other side a moment later and fired up the big rig. 

Colt dug in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.  He peeled off five one-hundred-dollar bills and set them on the dash. 

“You guys still use CBs, Steve?”  He nodded.  “Can you ask if anyone saw the man and woman running at the back of the lot?”

Steve picked up the CB and did as requested.  Then sent a text from his phone real fast.  A moment later two other truckers confirmed the fleeing man and woman on the other side of the parking lot. 

“You’re a good man, Steve,” Colt said, peeling off a couple more bills. 

“Can I ask what you guys did?” Steve said.

“Ran across the goods on drug traffickers.  You don’t know me, but I promise that you are helping on the right side,” he told the trucker. 

Colt pulled is phone out and tapped the screen. 

…

“We are on the way.  We picked up a ride in an eighteen-wheeler out of a truck stop.  ATS near Dorrance.”

…

“My car is still there.  My buddy Steve, here, even helped divert them for a few minutes by making them think we were on foot going the other way.”

…

“Roger that.  And I don’t see any pursuit yet.”

“Who’s he talking to,” Steve asked Callie.

“The agency he works for.  He’s my bodyguard and we were going to a safe house,” she replied, figuring it was the easiest way to answer. 

Steve nodded, even though he doubted her story.  It sounded too contrived to him. 

flat tummy and slender hips to their best effect.  The red made her pale skin… her mother insisted it was alabaster… really glow, in a good way.  And the heels really made her calves pop.  She smiled at her mirror-self, happy with the way she looked for the moment. 

She headed toward the door and gave it a pull, weaving back toward the dance floor and their VIP booth.  As she passed the bar, she slipped on something and stumbled, only to land in the arms of Ridiculously Handsome, who’d apparently resumed haunting a spot at the bar while she was “in the loo.” 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said profusely as he dabbed at the remains of his drink with a napkin he’d smoothly swept off the bar.

“No worries,” he said, smiling and supporting her with his free arm.

She struggled to get her feet under her again, between the embarrassment, the arak and the fluster, she had lost all coordination.  He set down the napkin and then, with both hands, lifted her and set her down on her feet. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?  I can walk you to your table?” 

She looked up at him.  She could feel herself slipping into those eyes.  He’s even better looking up-close, she thought.  “That’s ok.  I can make it,” she said weakly as she turned back toward the VIP. 

She looked up and saw Cory giving her a thumbs-up.  He might have been more subtle with a flashing neon sign, she thought.  He was standing, leaning over the rail, pumping his arm.  She glanced back and Ridiculously Handsome was looking right at him… then at her.  She felt the heat prickle into her face as she blushed.  Mr. Handsome smiled at her. 

And her foot shot out from under her again. 

Ridiculously Handsome once again caught her and held her up.  This time, though, he smoothly slipped his arms around her waist and supported her as he moved her toward the table she was sharing with Cory.  He pulled her into him, and she surrendered.  Luxuriating in the moment.  She could feel his strong arm against her back and his strong shoulder…  Again, she started to lose herself in the fantasy. 

She got to the bottom of the steps up to the VIP room and turned to him, “Please let me get you a drink.  I don’t even know your name and you’ve saved me at least twice now.”

He nodded and followed her up the three steps, making sure she didn’t have another mishap. 

“Dillon Kennedy,” he said as he gave Cory a firm handshake.

“Cory Taylor,” Cory responded, matching the firmness of Dillon’s handshake. 

“I’m Jenny Coolidge.  Thank you so much, Dillon.  You’re my hero.”

Cory leaned over and whispered into Jenny’s ear, “Definitely playing for team Jenny.  Go for it.”

Jenny blushed again and then waved at the waiter. 

A few minutes later they toasted “new friends” before clinking glasses and downing another shot of Arak. 

“Damn,” Dillon said, “a few of these and you would have been picking me up off the floor.”

Jenny found herself bushing again.  Dillon glanced over to her and gave her an easy smile.  She melted a little more inside.  She loved the way he slipped into the conversation.  He was so comfortable to be around.  Her mind started to drift off into her own little fantasy. 

“… Jenny?” she heard Cory ask.  She had no idea what he’d been saying for the last few seconds, minutes.  She had been busy riding a white stallion with her knight in shining armor, Sir Handsome.  “I said, isn’t it interesting that Dillon is a photographer.”

“Oh, God, yes.  That is so cool,” she replied.  OMG, I sound like an idiot, she said to herself.  A look from Cory confirmed the thought. 

“Well, Dillon, Jenny won’t say it, but she is an amazing computer programmer, as well as being an avid conversationalist and accomplished foodie.”

“Really?” he said, turning back to her.  “I know this incredible Italian place not far from here.  I’d love to take you… both of you.”

“I don’t…” Cory started to say.

 Jenny cut him off, “That would be wonderful.  I’m sure Cory would simply die if he didn’t go.”

Cory and Jenny faced each other for the briefest of moments.  Her eyes bored into him and he smiled and nodded. 

Dillon glanced at his watch, “It’s getting late for me.  I have a shoot tomorrow.”  He turned to Jenny, “Here’s my number.  Whenever you are ready to try that Italian place, give me a call.  You, too, Cory.”  His eyes never left Jenny’s. 

He rose and left their table.  “You, too, Cory,” Cory said in a nasally voice as soon as Dillon was out of earshot.  “Wow.  I turned invisible.”

“Did you say something?” Jenny said, a dreamy look still in her eyes.

“Apparently, I don’t make noise when I speak, either… I’m like a ghost.”  Cory waved his arms around and moved his hand up and down in front of his face, pretending to see through it.

“Oh, zip-it.  He wants to take us to dinner.”

“He wants to take you to dinner.  He’s willing to let me tag along.  He was right about it being late, though.  Let me order up a ride.”

A few minutes later they walked through the street-side door of Midnight and climbed into the waiting silver Pontiac G8GT that the rideshare app had specified.  Brian was their driver.  Twenty minutes after that, Jenny unlocked her door and invited Cory inside. 

“When do you think I should call him?” she asked, holding the card with his number in her hand.

“In a few days… he needs to stew in his juices first,” Cory said, snatching the number out of her hand. 

He turned and went to the guest room while she shook her head and headed to her own room to wash off her make-up and go to bed.  Luckily, because he stayed over once or twice a week, he had clothes and everything else he needed to get ready in the morning.  Unless someone noticed his car had been in the parking lot at work all night and saw him get out of Jenny’s Challenger, nobody would be the wiser.

She turned and looked at Cory.  He smiled, but she could see the concern in his soft, blue eyes.  He was her best friend and often, the only one that would drag her… well, she thought, from just about everything she needed to be dragged from.  His was the shoulder she’d done the ugly cries on when she’d had bad breakups.  He’d been there with a margarita for her when she didn’t land the client she expected to land.  He’d literally thrown her over his shoulder and carried her from a bar before she made a giant fool of herself one night.  He was the person she trusted more than anyone, even herself.  Time after time, he had looked out for her in more ways than she could count.

“If you say so, Cory.  Where to?” she said, rising from her ergonomically designed chair after clicking through the procedures to turn off “Death Star,” her programming machine. 

“Since it is ten o’clock, choices for dinner are limited, but I have an idea.”

With a flourish, he strode from the room, leaving Jenny is his wake.  He was slipping his phone from the breast pocket of his tailored sport coat as he disappeared from view.  She gathered up her purse and slipped her faded denim jacket over her slender frame.  She pushed her glasses up her nose and rushed to catch him. 

Turning down the hall toward the building exit, she caught him just before he stepped through the security gate.  “Well?” she asked. 

“I just got off the phone with my friend, Jesse.  He is getting us a table at Midnight and they are setting us up with a full dinner.  VIP experience.”

“Midnight?  I thought we were going somewhere now…”

“Silly girl.  Midnight… that new restaurant and club?  The one EVERYONE wants to get into.  Mile long line.  Midnight.  But you DO need to change clothes.  We can hurry by your place and I’ll see if you have any clothes you could possibly wear.”

Again, with a flourish he turned and headed toward her car.  And again, she ran to catch up.  She half expected him to demand to drive her car, too. 

***

They sat on the dais that surrounded half of the dance floor.  The small table between them full of small dishes, the remnants of their dinner.  Away from the steps that led to the main level, there was a private buffet loaded with food samples.  Jesse had outdone himself.  Cory had asked for “something exotic” and he had provided a Middle Eastern extravaganza.  The portions were small, but there had been at least thirty different dishes to try…  They were both stuffed and had turned to watch the dance crowd rapidly accumulating beneath them. 

“Good grief,” Jenny said as she pointed out a woman standing on the far side of the bar.

“Seriously, just because they make it in her size doesn’t mean she has to buy it or wear it,” Cory said… his “Mean Girl” surfacing.

“I know, right?  And it was out of style twenty years ago, when it might have fit.”

“What about that guy, Jen?  He is ridiculously handsome,” Cory said, pointing out a tall, dark-haired man casually strolling over to the bar.  He turned and glanced their way and smiled. 

“Was that smile for you or me?” Jenny asked.

“Me…  Has to be me.  There is NO way a man that well put together can be straight.  Sorry, Girlfriend,” Cory said, a smug look on his face. 

Over at the bar, the bartender handed him his drink and he left some cash on the bar as he flashed them a smile, before a leggy blonde sauntered up to him.  They couldn’t hear the conversation, but Cory started his own narration.  As she talked with him, she looked back across the bar, then gave him a pouty expression and walked away. 

Cory narrated both sides of the imagined conversation…  “Hi good-looking, my girlfriends have a table over there, want to join us?” he said in a falsetto voice. 

“Um, no.  I’m strictly dickly,” he replied, answering himself, using a deep voice.

“Ok, Mr. Taylor, she was hot enough that even a gay man would have been tempted.  Hell, I would be tempted,” Jenny interrupted. 

“You’re right, Jen.  I have to admit, I’d hit that… if only to find out where she got that dress.  And boy, did she wear it or what?  You need a dress like that.”

“Right.  What kind of fashion expert are you?  I’m a couple of numbers and letters short of filling that thing out,” she said, looking down at her “less-endowed” chest.  “What do you think… thirty-six, double D?”

“Seriously, Jen, you are a hot number.  Any guy… I mean ANY guy would be lucky to have you on his arm.  Combine that with the fact that you are brilliant and the second most wonderful person in the world, and you are a total package.”  He lightly put his hand over hers.  “We’ll get your sense of style fixed…”

“Second most wonderful?”

“Well… there is me,” Cory replied before getting up to trot off to the “little-boys room.” 

Jenny looked up again, but Ridiculously Handsome was gone from the bar.  She scanned around the room for a moment, expecting to see that he had decided to take up Miss Stacked on her offer, but she didn’t see him. 

Jesse, Cory’s friend, stopped by and dropped off a couple more drinks.  As he set them down, he told her they were called Arak, a Middle Eastern drink made from aniseed, and tasted similar to Ouzo.  That clears it up, she thought to herself, but smiled and took a sip.  She tasted licorice, presumably from the aniseed of the anise plant. 

“Wow, that is potent stuff,” she said out loud, coughing.

Jesse threw his back like a shot and encouraged her to do the same.  She coughed again, and her eyes got big for a moment.  He took the glasses and told her he’d be back in a minute. 

As Cory rejoined her, Jesse set down another couple of rounds and disappeared.  She and Cory moved their glance around the dance floor and the bar looking for others to watch and make up stories about as they tossed the remaining drinks back. 

“I need to visit the powder room,” Jenny said as she rose, slightly unsteadily.  “Whew, those Araks are serious.”

“Are you going to be ok?” Cory asked her, also rising and finding that he wasn’t much steadier on his feet. 

“Just keep an eye on me, but I’ll be fine.”  She self-consciously pulled the hem of her short dress down and headed for the stairs.  Three careful steps down and she was on the dance floor, crossing toward the bathroom.