more contributions to @NaNoWriMo for my November novel:
Dean pulled his Jeep in front of his house but left the engine running. A radio station played the last few bars of a song he heard earlier at the concert. Dean usually disliked anything new. He hadn't heard much music over the past few years he'd even listen to more than once, much less own. Yet, he was captivated by Agent Tangelo and their leader, Silas Bane. Dean smiled at the scream and hard end to the rollicking tune. He reached behind the seats and retreived a bag of dog food and a bottle of Southern Comfort. As he approached the Spanish style ranch home, the door opened and the woman he shared it with, Evelyn Tilly, met him in the doorway with crossed arms and a wicked grin. Under the front porch light that revealed her almost 40 year old face of little makeup and broken history, she said "hey there, night owl. You feed the dog, I'll pour some drinks." With no emotion, he looked past Evelyn insouciantly, replying "TRex is probably sleeping, I'll feed him in the morning, meet me on the back patio in you want." Evelyn was used to Dean's aloofness. He always seemed to be thinkingt about something else other that what was five feet in front of his face. She attributed it to him being a musician at heart. They were both older, set in their ways, and a little weird. It was 1:15am, Evelyn just wanted to spend some time with her complicated but good hearted boyfriend. Dean walked into his bedroom closet, got his guitar case, and walked to the sliding glass door leading to a patio overlooking the Atlantic ocean. The brosk night breeze felt relaxing. He opened the case and took out a tan and white acoustic guitar. It looked old and storied. He sat down on a lime green lounge chair and began strumming and picking to notes familiar and then later to some new. "Wpw, Dean, that's the first timeyou've played that since your birthday several months ago, Evelyn noted enthusiastically. Dean winced but knew she was owed some sort of explanation, "I saw something tonight that made me want to play. Don't make a big deal of it, ok." Evelyn knew how to read his quirks and pick her spots. She didn't press for details. As he strummed, Evelyn talked about her night hosting at the restaurant, Sunshine, and touched Dean's legs affectionately. She couldn;t help but wonder what it was like to know him years ago when music was Dean's world. Instead she was with the former musician. They'd been together two years. He never talked about his past. After about 20 minutes, and 2 glasses each of SoCo with water on the rocks, Dean spoke; "This kid, well, he's like 20 or so, Silas Bane has a band. They played the Reef next our shop. They're from Orlando. They call themselves Agent Tangelo. The band's hot, like surface of the sun hot. Tons of energy, heart, grit, and tenacity, This Bane is good, really good. Like Holy crap good." He stopped talking. Evelyn was floored. Dean never spoke fondly of anything musically from the past 20 years. He hated everything new. He wasn't just a music snob, but a bitter, angry, ranting music snob. "What makes him good, Dean," she asked. Dean strums some of the chors he heard Silas play earlier in the night, then stops. He grabs Evelyn's hand and his green eyes brighten. "Anyone can play music. Really they can. It's not that special of a skill. Songwriting is the the real art, and this kid can write his butt off. He can connect the nites, the rythym, the tin e, the melody, and give off an energy that says something. This kid can do it all Ev. He's remarkable. I mean he's a child. He's super stupid. He gets distracted by booze and boobs just like I used to, yet, even at his drunkest and most scatterbrained, he's crazy talented. He reminds me of...." Dean stops before he reveals too much to Evelyn. She's disappointed to not hear more. The emotional stopsign signals bed. "Come on, Dean Hellenbach, this groupie is ready for to go to sleep, or whatever." Evelyn takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom. The lock read 2am.
The Seashell Innwasn;t known for it's rules. Most of it's patrons paid in cash and didn't require candies on their pillows. At $42 a night, it was a popular spot for young beachcombers. With Agent Tangelo and it's hangerons, The Seashell Inn got a lot more than it bargained for. Night two of the rock bands 17 day stay, saw nudity, broken liquor and beer bottles, and a television thrown from the third floor balcony. The good news for The Seashell, the television belonged to another motel. Room 316 was a little different than the rest. The sounds strumming guitars and giggling girls were calm in comparison. Silas Bane stayed in Room 316. The lead singer, songwriter, and rythym guitar player for Agent Tangelo eschewed the behavior of his rowdier badmates, and their hedonistic clique. With the noise increasing, he grabbed his brown and white acoustic guitar and a bottle of vodka and started walking down the stairs and toward the beach, some 200 feet away. A few steps behind him was a young blonde, whose name escaped Silas. She was carrying a blanket and another bottle of vodka. They made it to the sand and fell into it awkwardly, laughing. The girl tried to kiss Silas, he teased her, then started playing Oasis' Wonderwall on his guitar. He stopped after the first verse and asked the nameless girl, "if we were to die tonight, would any of this mean anything?" Struck by his morose inquiry and disappointed in his slow burn to romance, she stood up, danced around him in a perfect circle, grabbed the vodka bottle, took a huge drink, dropped it, then removed her tank top and blue jean shorts. She ran into the ocean, dancing and giggling. Silas dropped his head, drunkenly, looked up and past the nearly nude girl and saw an unusual light on the pier, several hundred feet away. It was like a spotlight showing the figure of a man in a black suit with no tie and an open white collar. The man seemed to be staring at him, smiling, ominously. Silas dropped his head and looked up, the man was no longer there. "Come on, Silas! The water is perfect ad\nd so am I, hahahaha!" the girl called out to him. Silas blocked everything out of his mind, stripped down, and gave in to the hedonism.
let me know what you all think.
I'm at 1120 words. Got to get to 50,000 by November 30th.
Fire, Shared Food, Companionship
2 hours ago